


Brush Your Teeth

by aesoprock



Category: South Park
Genre: Accidental Confession, Aged-Up Character(s), Angry Kyle Broflovski, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward First Times, Birthday Party, Bisexual Stan Marsh, Christmas Presents, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depressed Stan Marsh, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Kyle Broflovski, Gender Dysphoria, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hanukkah, Hormones, Light Angst, M/M, Menstruation, Mental Health Issues, Needles, Period Sex, Slow Burn, Slurs, Smut, Trans Kyle Broflovski, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Truth or Dare, depression naps, self-care, stan gets a car!! good for him, stan goes on depression meds, they are 15 & 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesoprock/pseuds/aesoprock
Summary: Stan always had a hard time remembering to brush his teeth in the morning.ORKyle helps Stan with his mental illnesses, and Stan helps Kyle through hormone replacement therapy and his raging libido.Published 7/12/20 - 8/12/20
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 92
Kudos: 130





	1. Day One on Testosterone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before you comment: don't be transphobic. don't start debates/arguments. don't fetishize trans people or gay people (in real life or in this story.)
> 
> there are going to be some things in this story that you might consider gross/dysphoria inducing/triggering. if you don't like it, stop reading
> 
> trigger warning for this chapter: needles

_ (5:09 AM) sbf kyle: Good morning _

_ (5:09 AM) sbf kyle: Remember to brush your teeth. _

Stan sat up straight and squinted at the bright screen in his hands, before he realized that in just forty minutes he would have to be dressed and standing at the bus stop in the blistering cold. It was 6:30 AM.

He got dressed, and of course, brushed his teeth.

-

Stan always had a hard time taking care of himself, especially when it came to brushing his teeth. When he was younger and Sharon had to pick up night shifts at another job, Randy was left to watch over him and Shelly- who obviously didn’t care if his four year-old son and seven year-old daughter brushed their teeth or not. Money was tight back in those days when they had two kids to support and were still paying off college debt, but now that Shelly was in college and most things were paid off, things were easier.

So it became habit for Stan to skip brushing his teeth entirely. It was never the first thing on his mind when he woke up or before he went to bed, but thankfully Kyle was around to help him with that. Stan was lucky, though. His teeth were slightly crooked, but not yellowed and rotting like they could be. 

“Hey, dude,” Stan said once he got up to the bus stop. “Are you excited? I’m gonna miss you.”

Kyle smiled when he saw Stan approach, but when he spoke, his smile grew wider. “Yeah, I’m excited. You could’ve asked to come with me, you know. I don’t think your mom would care.”

Stan shook his head. “Do you know how many days I’ve missed?”

“...Okay. Maybe she would care.”

That day, Sheila was picking Kyle up early from school to go to a clinic in Colorado Springs that would (hopefully) put him on testosterone. After hitting puberty, there was no need for blockers. Kyle saw a therapist twice a month (unfortunately for Stan, that meant more time Kyle was away from him at school), who diagnosed him with dysphoria. It took a year to get in with the therapist, though, and another four months for the man to come to a diagnosis for Kyle (“ _ It’s bullshit _ !” Kyle had said after coming to Stan’s house after his third appointment), but things were slowly coming together. Stan hoped Kyle would actually be able to start today, though- he knew Kyle would be fuming if they made him wait another three months to return to the clinic.

“Told you. You gonna be okay with needles?” Stan asked, nudging Kyle in the arm. He watched Kenny trudge up the hill and wave at them. Stan waved back.

Nodding, Kyle turned to look at Kenny, and waved too. “I’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey guys.” Kenny stood next to them. With that, the conversation about the clinic died down and another one picked up.

-

_ (8:43 PM) sbf kyle: Can you come over? _

_ (8:43 PM) sbf kyle: Like, right now? Please? _

_ (9:02 PM) sbf kyle: Dude? _

Stan didn’t see the message until after 9 PM, but once he saw it, he slipped his shoes on and ran to Kyle’s house. He knew it wasn’t an  _ emergency  _ or anything, but he wanted to be there for whatever Kyle might’ve needed. 

The front door was unlocked, so Stan let himself inside and went up to Kyle’s bedroom, only to find him sitting at his desk, his pants off, with a needle in his hand. Kyle’s head shot up as soon as he saw the door move. “I can’t do this. You need to help me.”

Stan closed the door and moved closer to Kyle, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure you want me to do it for you? I don’t know anything about needles, dude.” His eyes trailed over Kyle’s thighs. It was a little weird to see him without pants on, even if he was wearing underwear- he was insecure and super careful about changing in front of people, but Kyle didn’t seem like he cared now.

“...You’re better at it than I am. I can’t even get the damn thing in.”

Crouching down, Stan took the needle from Kyle and looked into the body of the needle. “There’s too many air bubbles in this, you need to get them out.” He looked past the needle and saw a few small beads of blood on Kyle’s leg. “...How many times did you try to get it in?”

“Like, three?” He only managed to poke the surface on the outside of his thigh.

“You need a new needle. This one is probably dull.” Stan stood up and took another syringe from the pile, taking off the plastic and throwing it in the small trashcan that sat next to Kyle’s desk. “What do you mean you can’t do it? What part is bothering you?”

Kyle stared down at his bloody leg. “What if I, like, put it in, and then it hits muscle, or a nerve or something, and then it swells up… or what if- see? You’re better than me at this. You know more.”

“Did they tell you how to do an injection?”

“Yeah, they made me practice it. On an orange.” Kyle stared up at him.

Stan stared back, before smiling and setting the needle down. “Get the liquid into this one. I’ll be back, I’m getting you a rag.”

“What? Why?”

“For the blood on your leg?”

Kyle uncapped the syringe and pushed it into the rubber stopper. “Oh. That makes sense,” he said as Stan left, turning the syringe upside down and drawing liquid into it.

Stan grabbed a wash rag from the closet in the hallway and came back, crouching down again and wiping Kyle’s leg. “You’re positive you want me to do it for you?” he asked once he set the bloodied rag down.

“...No,” Kyle admitted.

He could see all of the air bubbles from where he was sitting. “You need to get the air out first if you’re gonna do anything. I already told you that.”

“How?”

_ He can’t be this dumb,  _ Stan thought to himself as he took the syringe in his hands. “You tap on it. Like this.” He tapped on the body, sending little air bubbles flying to the top. “Then you put the air back into the vial.”  _ Is he pretending to not know how to do this? _

Nodding, Kyle did as Stan said, and soon enough most of the air bubbles were gone. He sat there in his chair, syringe and vial in his hands, not saying anything.

“Are you going to do this yourself?”

“Uh. I don’t know,” Kyle said stupidly. “Wait. I have to wipe my leg off,” he mumbled, capping the syringe and ripping open an alcohol pad, rubbing it on the side of his leg. Stan stared at Kyle’s lightly freckled thighs. He was so overdramatic when he complained about his body- about his hips being too wide, or having too much meat on his legs, or having a chest in general, but Stan never really paid attention to stuff like that. It was Kyle’s face and hair he liked best. Sometimes his ass, but that was just teenage hormones talking. “Okay. I’m gonna do it,” Kyle announced to himself, holding the syringe sideways at his leg.

“I believe in you.”

Staring at the side of his leg, Kyle couldn’t decide on a place. “What if I hit something, Stan? What am I supposed to do then?”

“The needle is too short to hit anything major. If they told you to inject it into the fat in your leg, it won’t reach anything else, dude. See? I’ll do it for you if you want me to.”

“No. I’ll do it.” Kyle, after deciding on a place, pressed the needle to the side of his leg.

Stan shook his head. “I think I should do it. You’re not pushing it in fast enough, that’s why it hurts so much. That’s why it feels like it’s hitting muscle. I promise, it’s only puncturing your skin.”

“...Do it for me,” Kyle finally pleaded.

He took (for what felt like the millionth time) the syringe back from Kyle and wiped his leg off again. “You might wanna look away,” Stan advised as he held the syringe at a 45 degree angle and pushed it into Kyle’s leg.

“Ow,” Kyle whispered, tensing up and turning to look at Stan as he pushed on the plunger. Once all of the liquid was out of the syringe, Stan pulled the needle out of Kyle’s leg and set the needle back on the desk. He looked back down to see blood gushing out of his leg, and reached for the rag, but it was too late, because Kyle already had it. He pressed it to the outside of his thigh.

“See? That was easy. You had nothing to be scared of,” Stan said, smiling. 

Kyle nodded, biting his lip as he pushed the two discarded needles into a sharps container with his free hand. “Thank you. Can you do it for me every time?”

“...Don’t you want to learn how to do it yourself? I’ll do it if you want me to, but like, how often?”

“Once a week. Today’s Friday, so that would be every Friday you’d have to help me,” Kyle told him, starting to straighten things up. First he put the two discarded needles into a sharps container. Kyle put the vial into a small cardboard box, before opening a desk drawer and putting it away, along with the other syringes, alcohol pads, the sharps container…

Stan watched him clean up, almost hypnotized by his movements. “I have football practice on Fridays.”

“Well- you know I go to them anyway. You can just come over to my house after football practice.”

“...What if I have a game that day, though?” Stan asked.

Kyle turned to look at him. “Big whoop. Do it in the morning.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you with it. So what is this supposed to do? I know you said your voice will get deeper, but, uh, what else?”

“Uh.. a lot of stuff, actually. I could get facial hair. I’ll be sweatier.” Kyle had everything put away, and threw the bloodied rag on his desk. He lowered his voice. “It’ll stop my, uh, period too. Hopefully,” he said quickly, reaching down to pull his shorts up.

Stan knew there were certain words Kyle didn’t like saying. Period was one of them. “That’s good,” he said, standing up from previously crouching on the floor. He wasn’t sure if anybody else could tell, but he always knew when Kyle was menstruating. He ate more, slept more, snapped at him more, generally spoke less, and wore a fuckton of cologne, only to mask the scent of blood. His body odor in general wasn’t too bad on its own. “I’m really happy for you, Ky.”

Once Kyle had his shorts on, he nodded. “Yeah, I think this is gonna help a lot. Hey, can you spend the night?”

“Oh, I thought we were gonna do that tomorrow?”

Kyle shrugged. “I missed you.”

“You were only out of town, for like-”

“Four hours. Yeah, I know, but you didn’t text me at all. All day. So you should make it up to me,” he grinned, taking Stan’s arm. “Go brush your teeth, then we can play video games and eat ice cream or something.”

Stan smiled back. Kyle knew him too well.


	2. Popcorn Chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning; possible dysphoria-inducing hrt changes, description of genitalia, slurs

As the days went by, Kyle grew more and more frustrated with himself and his stupid fucking  _ body.  _ Stan was coming over every Friday after football practice and doing his injections for him, but he still felt like nothing was happening. He knew what the doctors said-  _ it could take up to three months for it to work, sweetheart-  _ but if there was anything Kyle was bad at, it was being patient and waiting for these changes to come.

The very first change was something Kyle didn’t even care about. Something that was  _ completely useless.  _ During his first week of being on hormones, maybe the second or third day, his clitoris grew. By, like,  _ a lot.  _ A few centimetres. Along with that, his clit grew more sensitive, making it easier to climax when he masturbated- but  _ who cared?  _ Seriously, who fucking cared? He sure didn’t- Kyle was way more eager for his voice to start dropping, or leg hair to come in, or even fat distribution (which he knew could be years away, but he couldn’t help being excited.)

Kyle stood in the bathroom that day, his right leg propped up on the sink, staring down at his genitals. Thankfully he didn’t have bottom dysphoria as much as he did top dysphoria, but it was still disgusting to look at, especially knowing it was his own body.

He reached down and pressed on it, pulling the surrounding skin back. The loose skin around the middle of his clit reminded him of foreskin.

_ Fucking gross,  _ he muttered in his head, reaching down to pull his underwear and pants back up. Kyle left the bathroom.

-

Kyle neglected to mention this change to Stan, as he found it disgusting, and he figured Stan would feel the same way. It was nothing to be excited about.

He was at lunch, eating his baked potato and a carton of popcorn chicken that he stole from Cartman’s tray when Cartman got up to grab a fork. He had so much food on his tray, Kyle was sure that he wouldn’t notice. After all, he only stole one paper container of popcorn chicken from a leaning stack of them.

But when Cartman sat back down, he did notice, to Kyle’s disbelief. “Fuckin’ Jew. You didn’t have popcorn chicken on your tray before.”

Kyle ignored him, continuing to shove food in his mouth. He woke up late that morning (his charger broke the night before, and Kyle hadn’t realized that when he plugged it in- which meant his phone was dead when he woke up and didn’t have the battery to make his alarm go off), so he had to skip breakfast in order to get to school. 

“I have a high metabolism, I need to eat a lot to maintain my weight! You’re paying me back,” Cartman whined, opening his can of Sprite and starting to chug it.

Stan snickered from beside him. “High metabolism my ass,” he muttered.

Kenny grinned from the other side of the table. “Exactly. You don't need to maintain your current weight.”

“Extras are two dollars. Pay up, Kahl.” Cartman still wasn’t letting it go, as much as he tried ignoring him.

He swallowed his mouthful of potato and sour cream. “No.”

“Oh yeah? I know what pocket you keep your stupid wallet in, tranny. So pay up.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore the slur for now. “Come on, Cartman- you steal shit from my tray all the time. Just shut up.”

“Yeah? So what? You always end up taking it back.”

At this point, Kyle was visibly irritated- but it was a different kind of anger than usual. He wanted to rip his own hair out instead of Cartman’s. “You don’t need thirteen fucking cartons of popcorn chi-cken!” he shouted, his voice cracking.

Stan immediately doubled over and started laughing. Kyle turned around quickly, glaring down at the back of Stan’s head. Was it really that fucking funny? His face started to heat up as he looked away and made eye contact with Cartman.

“Aw, don’t be mean to Eric, now. He’s just hungry,” Butters spoke up. “Here, Eric- you can have some of mine.”

“No,  _ Butters-  _ Kahl needs to pay me back. He took my chicken in the first place.” But Cartman took the paper carton from Butters anyway.  _ Fat bitch,  _ Kyle thought absently.

Stan was sitting up straight now, letting out labored pants. “Haa, whoo. Sorry, Kyle. But that was fucking funny, you’re just-” he said, giggling again. “So cute.” He let his hand rest on Kyle’s shoulder.

“I’m  _ not!”  _ Kyle shouted again, luckily avoiding another voice crack. He hated the way his voice sounded, and this wasn’t raising his confidence at all. “Shut up, dude. God.”

“It’s- no, Kyle. It really is cute. I’m sorry.” Stan pulled his hand away from Kyle’s shoulder.

Kyle stood up, jabbing his fork into the final piece of baked potato and shoving it in his mouth before leaving the table and dumping his tray. There was no way he was staying around those fucking people, Cartman and Butters especially. He left the cafeteria, gritting his teeth in blind rage. Logically, he knew there was no reason to be angry at Stan- he couldn’t help what he laughed at and didn’t laugh at- but he was still pissed off. 

Stan had called him cute plenty of times before, which made him equally flustered and uncomfortable at the same time. He never told Stan that, though- he liked the compliments. Craved them, even if they made him dysphoric and reminded him that he would always look feminine. Maybe not to Stan, but to everyone else. To himself.

And if Stan wasn’t allowed to call him cute, what else was left? Pretty? That was worse. Way worse. Adorable? Equally as dysphoria-inducing. Handsome? He wasn’t, and that was too… intimate. 

Kyle decided that cute wasn’t that bad. Plenty of guys could be considered cute. Stan was cute. Token was kind of cute, more on the hot side, but… still applicable.

As he roamed the hallways, still lost in thought and not looking where he was going, he bumped into Wendy.

“Oh- hi, Kyle!” she greeted, closing her locker and clicking the lock around it. “You okay?”

“...Yeah. Sorry, I was distracted,” Kyle explained. He looked away as he spoke. Kyle didn’t  _ hate  _ Wendy- she was actually more on the supportive side- but talking to her always brought back ugly memories of the two of them fighting in class over who was smarter or who had the answers right in middle school. 

Wendy nodded. “I get that. It’s fine. Hey… your voice is deeper, are you sick?”

His eyes widened. “Uh, no. Bye,” Kyle said quickly, pushing past her and turning down an adjoining hallway. 

His voice was getting deeper.

Kyle continued to roam the hallways, looking for the perfect place to hide out until the bell rang, grinning like a maniac the entire time. Maybe things were changing. He was just so caught up in looking for the big changes that he completely overlooked the smaller, gradual ones.


	3. Dude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i didn't update yesterday! i'm working on a really long fic with my friend 😳 anyway
> 
> i made a style playlist a while ago idk if anybody cares but here it is: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6pNc4qnFm7b7Nfx9MG3QTT?si=lY2uyl1WQjOoURHJG-CDRw
> 
> trigger warning for this chapter: "smut" and dysphoria incuding stuff, blood, menstruation, post-nut/sex regret (idk how to describe it... dub-con maybe)

Three months had passed. It was now October, and football season was in full swing. Kyle started to witness more changes.

First, his voice had definitely lowered, but his throat was always sore and scratchy and a pain in the ass to deal with. Stan and Kenny stole cough drops and mints from Mr. Mackey’s office whenever they could and gave them to Kyle to stop him from complaining, which was nice- but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

Second, he was  _ sweaty.  _ And he had  _ pimples.  _ Before, his face had been about average as far as acne went- but now Kyle found himself constantly trying to pop his whiteheads in the mirror and obsessing over how ugly his pores were. Popping the pimples did nothing, though- they scabbed over, and when Kyle picked the scabs, they became small reddish brownish scars on his face. It was frustrating. Kyle had been insecure before, and the voice drop helped considerably, but he still felt ugly.

Frustratingly enough, his menstrual flow didn’t stop or lessen at all. Kyle found most of his cycles to be early, and sometimes he bled for two weeks in a row. He ate a lot more, too, and figured that was for the best. If Kyle’s metabolism was higher, sure enough, that would melt the fat on his thighs. Right…?

And last, he was always horny. This one was the worst, and Kyle had a harder time dealing with it than anything else. On weekends, given that Stan or Kenny wasn’t around, he could masturbate six times in the same day and not be satisfied. During school, it was one of the main things he couldn’t get off of his mind, although his libido peaked and dropped at seemingly random times.

Kyle thought about these changes as he laid in bed, letting his eyes go in and out of focus on Stan’s sleeping face. He wondered if the doctor he saw a few months ago put him on too high of a dose, or maybe Kyle was putting too much liquid in the syringe, and the doctor had pointed to the wrong line when she went through the explanations. Whatever it was, he wished it would fix itself, because he clearly didn’t know the root of the problem and didn’t want to be horny every waking minute of his life.

“Are you mad at me?”

The question had come out of nowhere, and Kyle found himself narrowing his eyes. Why would Stan think he was mad at him? And hadn’t he been asleep this whole time? “No? What, did I do something?” Kyle asked, lifting his pillow and putting his arm underneath it, readjusting himself. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Stan shrugged. “You seem like you are. And you always snap at me if I, like, touch your arms or your legs or whatever.”

He closed his eyes. Yeah- Stan was right, but that didn’t mean he was mad at him. Kyle considered telling him the truth, and decided there was no harm. Not like Stan would tell anyone or make things weird. “I’m just really horny all the time. So. I’m sorry, dude.”

“Are you right now?”

Kyle opened his eyes. Was he? “I mean, I guess… yeah?”

“Oh,” Stan muttered. “That sucks, dude. Do you want me to help?”

_ Do you want me to help?  _ Kyle’s cheeks heated up. What the fuck could that possibly mean? “You’re-... Stan, what? Help, like… like how?”

He studied Stan’s face as he shifted on his pillow. Probably stalling for time. “I mean- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Okay, then what were you trying to say? Because you’re not fucking me. That’s really weird.”

“No,” Stan muttered, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

Kyle huffed. “You’re not getting out of this. Fucking tell me.”

“I just meant- that if, you, like- wanted me to get you off, or something…” he said, averting his eyes and swallowing his spit, “I’d help you. I know it’s weird. I’m sorry, but I’d do it if you wanted me to.”

He steadied his breathing. “So… that’s a serious offer?” Kyle asked, trying to comprehend the whole thing. What appeal could Stan possibly find in fingering him?

“...Yeah. It is. Okay, hear me out- you’re horny right now. Okay? And you’re- I mean, clearly it’s bothering you, not just right now, but every day, because you’re always pissed at me.” Stan looked him in the eyes, raising his eyebrows as he did so. “It’s not that weird. It isn’t.”

Kyle chewed on the inside of his lip. There was no way this was real. Putting his huge crush on Stan aside, there was no fucking way he was letting Stan do this. Not while he was on his period, and not while he was letting hormones affect his judgement. “No. It’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because- you wouldn’t want to, trust me.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m literally offering to help you out here. I already said I wanted to help.”

“No, Stan. Okay, listen. If Kenny asked you to jack him off, would you do it?” Kyle asked, balling his fist underneath his pillow. It looked like Stan was actually being serious about this.

Stan considered the question for a moment. “If he paid me.”

Kyle shook his head. “How much would he have to pay you?”

“At least nine bucks. But you’re different, dude. We’re closer, and you actually… need it.”

Okay, Kyle had to admit that Stan had a point there, but not a very good one. “Still not happening.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m on my fucking period, dude. God. That’s why,” Kyle muttered, sliding his arm out from underneath his pillow and crossing his arms over his stomach. “Just shut up.”

“Kyle.”

“What?” he snapped, starting to seriously get pissed off.

“It’s just blood, it’s not that gross.”

Kyle clenched his teeth and shook his head. “It  _ is  _ gross, dude!”

“No it’s not.”

“You’d think it was gross if it was fucking coming out of you!”

Stan glared at him. “It’s natural, Kyle. You’re overreacting. I’m just saying, you shouldn’t be miserable and awake all night just because I’m here. And blood isn’t gross.”

He was still having a hard time believing that Stan offered to  _ finger him.  _ “So, to get this one hundred percent straight- you would put your fingers inside of me?”

“...Yeah? I- I don’t have to. If you wanna like, masturbate or whatever by yourself, I can turn around or leave the room for a bit or whatever.” Kyle could hear Stan swallowing his spit. “I didn’t mean to make it weird or make you mad at me. I’m sorry.”

He felt a dull pain in his chest. Had Kyle somehow managed to upset Stan by not letting him finger him? No- Stan was only upset because he thought Kyle was mad. Which he kind of was, and still didn’t entirely believe that Stan wanted to “help him” with his problem. 

_ Just see if he will. See if he backs out.  _

__ Kyle found himself scolding his own thoughts away. But he had to admit, they were intriguing. “Uh, I’m not mad at you. Sorry. Just… really surprised.” A half-lie- Kyle was surprised, but still pissed that Stan would even suggest fingering him- and going as far as saying period blood wasn’t gross, when it definitely was?

Stan closed his eyes. “Well, if you want me to leave, just tell me.”

“I don’t,” Kyle confirmed. Stan nodded, keeping his eyes shut.

He turned on his back and replayed the conversation in his mind.  _ Just fucking see how long it takes him to back out. He won’t do it. _

__ _ I’m not going to let him finger me. Shut the fuck up. _

__ Still, Kyle found himself wondering what would happen if he said yes. 

“Stan,” he spoke. Kyle saw Stan shifting from the corner of his eye, and decided to go on with his question. “Is that offer, uh, still up?”

“It is,” Stan said almost immediately. “Are you sure?”

God, he really wasn’t sure. Kyle wanted Stan to finger him, but in an ideal situation, they would be dating, and Kyle would have a fucking dick. But this was the best he’d probably get. Surgeries were a thing of the future at this point, thanks to lack of universal healthcare, and he would be looking at a waiting period of maybe ten years to save up that kind of money. When he turned old enough to move out and have a well-paying job. After college.

Fuck. That was  _ decades  _ in the future.

“I’m sure.” And suddenly, Kyle was sure, almost as if saying it out loud made it real. “Do it.”

_ He won’t, he doesn’t like you. You’re disgusting. And you’re bleeding. _

__ _ Okay, you’re right. Shut up. _

__ “Wow, okay. Well, I’ve never, like, fingered anyone. So you’re gonna have to tell me how to do it.” Stan sat up straight and reached for the waistband of Kyle’s pajama pants, looking at him before he pulled down on them for consent.

_ Wait, no, what?  _ Kyle’s heart sped up in his chest, but he wasn’t about to stop him. He wanted this, but… Stan wasn’t backing out? “Go ahead,” Kyle said, giving him a small nod.

Just like that, Kyle’s pants were off, and he was left in his underwear. “Wait, stop,” Kyle said, sitting up and putting a hand out as if that might do anything.

Stan stopped, letting his hands rest in his lap.

“You actually wanted to?”

“Dude, I-” he stammered, looking away. “Yes?” Stan was making eye contact now. “That’s what I said, like, a million times. I’m willing to help you.”

Kyle realized he morphed from breathing relatively normally to letting out short, quick breaths. “No. Uh, I’m like.. scared. Of you.”

Stan blinked at him, his hands still in his lap. “You’re scared of me?”

“Yeah. You didn’t do anything- I’m not scared of you physically, but I know that… you’re gonna, like, look at me, and think I’m-” he paused, taking a deep breath. “You’ll think I’m like, gross, or lesser or something, and things will get weird after that-”

“No I won’t,” he cut Kyle off, wrapping his arms around Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle felt one of Stan’s arms brush against his chest briefly and cringed, but it was over too soon for it to really bother him, and he knew Stan didn’t mean it. He was trying to be comforting, and mostly, it was helping. “You’re not gross, dude. You can’t help how you were born. And like, you’re hygienic and stuff. More hygienic than I am. So you’re not gross.”

Kyle nodded, feeling his own chest rise and fall with those panicked, short little breaths. “Okay. I want you to. But I’m scared.”

“We don’t have to, Ky.” Stan started to rub Kyle’s right shoulder. 

“No. I’m gonna have to get this over with eventually… and I trust you the most. So.” He pushed himself away from Stan. “Um. Can you do it now?”

Stan shook his head. “Kyle, your virginity isn’t something you have to get over with. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

He sighed. “I want to. I do! Okay? Stop making this difficult, and just.. um, finger me. Please.” He felt stupid saying those words to Stan.  _ Especially  _ to Stan, who was doing a good job of not judging him or making him uncomfortable so far. At least of all the things that were in his control, he was doing a good job of.

“Alright. I’ll go slow, okay? And tell me if you want me to stop, or if something hurts.”

Kyle felt like something was missing. And then it hit him- the blood. That shit was going to be all over Stan's light blue sheets if the two of them weren’t careful. “Get a towel. Not a white one- a black one. So your parents won’t ask why there’s blood stains.”

Stan opened his mouth to question him, but then realized  _ why  _ Kyle wanted a towel, and he ran to the bathroom to grab one. When Stan came back, Kyle moved so he could spread the towel out where Kyle was supposed to be sitting.

He sat back down on the towel, underwear still on, his anxiety starting to build again. As he stared down at his underwear, bulky because of the thick overnight pad stuck to the bottom, he took deep breaths.

“Are we ready? What about your shirt- you want me to leave that on, right?” Stan asked, head tilted forwards.

“Yeah. Leave it on. And I’m ready.” He didn’t feel ready, but he knew Stan wouldn’t do anything to hurt him on purpose.

Stan pulled down on Kyle’s underwear, stopping when it got down to his knees. He stared at the streaks of blood on Kyle’s pad before looking back up and making eye contact. “What do you do when you masturbate?”

“...Just rub my clit. You can put your fingers in me if you want, but don’t go in and out… just leave them in there and then like, push up? I don’t know how to explain it.”

Nodding, Stan looked down at Kyle’s pussy and extended his middle finger, slowly pressing it in, as if Kyle might be hurt by one finger. Kyle watched him dully.

“That okay?” Stan asked, looking back to make sure he had Kyle’s approval.

“If it hurt, I would’ve told you.”

Stan nodded, feeling a little stupid as he pressed his middle finger against Kyle’s upper vaginal wall as he was instructed. He glanced back at Kyle, who was now biting his bottom lip, and repeated the motion, deciding to speed up.

“Mmgh, dude..” Kyle hummed, tensing up the muscles in his stomach. “Keep going.”

He continued, looking up at Kyle. The fact that Kyle’s cheeks were red, and that Kyle was staring at him with such deep intensity… it made him feel needed. Wanted. Butterflies churned in his stomach, and Stan already knew that he was going to have a boner by the time this whole thing was over.

Stan added another finger and quickened his pace, looking away from Kyle and staring at his enlarged clit. When the fuck did that happen? He knew what Wendy’s vagina looked like, and it was nothing compared to Kyle’s. Maybe everyone’s anatomy was just… different. Stan pressed his thumb against Kyle’s clit, naturally inclined to rub it in a circular motion.

Kyle’s hips jerked violently at the sensation.

Pulling his thumb away, Stan looked up at him. Kyle glared at him through soft panting. “What?”

“I- I was afraid I hurt you or something. Sorry.”

“I’ll tell you if you do. That was really good- just.. don’t stop unless I say so.” Kyle raised his eyebrows. “Go. Keep going.”

He wrapped his arm around Kyle’s waist and started going at Kyle’s clitoris again, listening to his soft, hitched breaths and small whimpers as he did so.  _ So demanding. But so cute. God, so cute.  _

__ Stan thrusted his fingers harder up against him as he wondered what would become of this. A normal routine? God, he hoped so. He would finger Kyle every day if Kyle wanted him to, or even better, eat him out or fuck him.

The whimpering grew louder, though, and suddenly Kyle opened his eyes. “S-Stop, dude. Fuck. Stop.”

“...What?” Stan whispered, pulling his fingers out and staring down at the thin mix of blood and natural lubricant that coated them. “Are you okay?” A bad feeling settled in his stomach.  _ He doesn’t want this anymore. I’m doing a bad job, or he doesn’t like me and thinks it's too weird to keep going. _

__ “I’m being too loud. My parents are gonna hear me.” His eyes widened. “What do I do?”

“...Muffle it with a pillow. Or, uh, I dunno… would biting me help? Like, my shoulder or something?”  _ Holy fuck. He actually wants more? _

__ Kyle grinned. “I’m not gonna bite you.” He scooted closer to Stan and pressed his face against Stan’s chest. “Let’s, uh. See if this works.”

_ He’s so cute. This is so fucking cute. Fuck. Fuck.  _

__ Kyle threw his arms around Stan’s waist, gripping him tighter as Stan pushed his fingers back inside Kyle’s hole. He continued where he left off, rubbing Kyle’s clit again and smiling faintly at the noises he was able to get out of him. 

“God, Stan,” Kyle whispered, clenching his teeth. “Go faster. Faster, please. Fuck.”

He hesitated, wondering if he should start using dirty talk- but decided against it. Stan sped up, rubbing Kyle’s clit harder and faster than he had before. 

He felt Kyle’s stomach rise and fall against his own stomach, felt his hot breath near his neck. “Oh my god. Fuck, fuck, yes- ahh- pull my hair,” he demanded. “Do it! Fuck, pull my hair!” Kyle whisper-yelled, shoving his face harder into the fabric of Stan’s shirt.

Stan stared down at him, moving his arm away from Kyle’s waist and reaching up to Kyle’s head, yanking a small section of red curls. He didn’t want to pull  _ too  _ hard. Stan knew Kyle had a pretty high pain tolerance, but he didn’t want to hurt him.

“Stan, fuck! Harder, please, go faster, ahh, please- please. I want- I want more..” he trailed off, his breathing growing sharper and more ragged. “I’m gonna-  _ ahh-  _ I’m gonna cum, dude, hurry-”

Smiling faintly, he tugged harder on Kyle’s curls and pulled his fingers out, putting more attention on Kyle’s clit. He couldn’t help but smile- he  _ loved  _ the way Kyle was clinging onto him, begging him to go faster or pull his hair harder, whimpering, moaning… it was proof that Kyle wanted him. He sped up the circular motion on Kyle’s clit, now using his middle and ring finger instead of his thumb.

Kyle bucked his hips, tensing up and releasing the muscles in his legs, his breathing now rapid. “God, god, I- agh-” he muttered, pulling his legs up to his chest to get Stan to stop touching him. “S-Stop, dude, I… I came.”

“You did? That’s, uh, good. I’m glad I could help you,” he whispered, letting go of Kyle’s hair and gently running his fingers against Kyle’s scalp instead. “Did I do okay?”

He nodded. “You did fine. I regret… saying yes, though. I wish I, uh, never let you…” he trailed off.

Stan frowned, wiping his hand off with the black towel. “I’m sorry. Did I do something?”

“No. You didn’t do anything, you were… really good. It’s just embarrassing. I don’t know,” he explained, pulling his underwear back on and letting his forehead rest against Stan’s chest. “I hate myself for saying yes.”

“Oh,” Stan said, mostly out of disappointment. “It’s- Kyle, it’s okay. I don’t see you as… lesser or anything. We don’t have to do stuff like that ever again if you don’t want to. But… it felt good, right?”

Kyle nodded, refusing to look up at him.

“Well…” he continued, trying to convince Kyle that he shouldn’t feel bad. But how was he supposed to do that? “It’s not like it’s your fault that you were born that way. And I’m completely fine with… getting you off whenever. I… it just… sucks that you feel bad about it, you know? You deserve to be happy.”

Kyle took a while to speak. He waited patiently for Kyle’s response, staring down at his curly mop of hair as he did so. Stan kinda missed the Jew-fro that Kyle used to have in middle school- unfortunately, he buzzed the sides off in 7th grade. The hairstyle looked good on him, and Stan liked it, but he wished he had more of Kyle’s hair to play with.

Kyle shrugged, his face still buried in Stan’s shirt. “It’s whatever. I’ll think about it. Thanks for, um, not judging me or whatever, and offering, I guess…” he spoke, taking deep, shaky breaths. “Like, it was… nice. But I don’t want stuff to get weird.”

“It won’t get weird,” Stan reassured him. “I promise. I’m not gonna tell anybody if you don’t. And we’re still friends.”

He pulled his head away from Stan’s shirt, smiling up at him now. “Good. I won’t tell anybody either.”

“...You tired yet?” Stan asked, resting his forehead against Kyle’s. “I can cuddle you if you want.”

Kyle scrunched up his nose. “Ew. At least wash your hands first if you’re gonna touch me.”

He had almost forgotten the fact that two of his fingers were coated in period blood. “Oh. Yeah. That.” Stan smiled sheepishly and stood up.


	4. Depression Naps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning; self-neglect

Stan woke up to his mother shaking his arm, telling him to get up and go downstairs to eat breakfast before wandering off in the hallway somewhere. He sat up and groaned, immediately noticing that Kyle wasn’t in bed with him. Did he already leave?

“Mom!” he yelled, knowing he wasn’t going to get up for breakfast anyway. Stan was still tired- all he wanted to do was go to the bathroom and then sleep in all day.

“What!?”

“Did Kyle leave already?” Stan asked, standing up and adjusting his shorts.

There was a pause before she appeared in the doorway with a stack of clothes in her arms. “Yeah? He said he felt sick, and that you knew he was going home…” Sharon explained. “Do you want to help me do laundry?”

“...No. And I’m not hungry.”  _ Oh God. He’s already at home? _

Sharon frowned. “You should eat,” she scolded, disappearing back into her own bedroom to drop off the stack of Randy’s clothes.

After going to the bathroom, he plopped back into bed.  _ I fucked it up, didn’t I? Great. Great, now Kyle hates me and we’re gonna have a stupid fucking fight. _

_ Or you could just text him,  _ a voice inside his head told him.

_ Fine.  _ He rolled over and grabbed his phone off of his charger and turned it on.

_ 8:38 AM _

**_SBF Stan: im sorry_ **

**_SBF Stan: do you hate me?_ **

-

Stan napped for another four hours and woke up feeling refreshed, yet still uneasy. He checked his phone, hoping Kyle at least saw the message if he didn’t want to answer.

_ 9:16 AM _

**_sbf kyle: I feel disgusting. But I don’t hate you._ **

**_sbf kyle: I just regret it, and now things are going to be awkward._ **

**_sbf kyle: Don’t tell anyone about it, okay?_ **

**_sbf kyle: Well, that’s probably obvious._ **

_ 10:54 AM _

**_sbf kyle: Go brush your teeth if you haven’t already._ **

He stared at the messages. Yes- he had  _ definitely  _ fucked things up. He should’ve never offered to fucking  _ finger  _ Kyle in the first place. Kyle agreed, but now Kyle felt like shit and hated him, so Stan wasn’t making any progress, was he?

And if Kyle didn’t agree to the offer, what would happen then? Would Kyle figure out Stan liked him? That would be even worse.

Stan rolled his eyes and let his phone drop to the floor, grabbing his covers and pulling them high over his head.

He should’ve kept his fucking mouth shut.

-

After an hour or so of lying in bed, wondering how to make it up to Kyle (if that was even possible) and daydreaming about what would happen if Kyle forgave him, he realized he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon.

He tore his blanket off of himself and looked up to see Randy and Sharon standing in the doorway, staring at him, clearly concerned. “Stan,” Randy spoke.

“What, dad? Did grandpa die yet?” he muttered, sitting up straight and grabbing his earbuds off of his bedside table. Stan planned on burrowing back underneath his covers and listening to some sad edgy playlist to let his mind wander- the type of music that was so edgy and cringy that he would never let Kyle know he listened to stuff like that.

“No, Stan. Grandpa is still alive.” Sharon sat down on the edge of his bed, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m really sorry that we didn’t listen to you, honey.”

Stan narrowed his eyes, plugging in his headphones to the audio jack. “What?”

“Well, we said that you didn’t need a therapist because you weren’t depressed… but you were right, okay? We’ve been thinking, and-” she paused, looking over at Randy. “Our insurance mostly covers talk therapy. We can let you pick the therapist, I don’t know if you want a man or a woman, but maybe they can put you on medicine.” Sharon raised her eyebrows, studying his face to see how he was taking it. “It might help you.”

He stared at her blankly, remembering all of the times Randy called him a “sensitive little faggot” for getting upset and staying in his room all day last winter. Stuff like that was hard to forget. But it seemed like Randy was getting better with that stuff- and they were  _ actually  _ listening to him?  _ Actually  _ considering a therapist, after all of the times he begged to talk to someone? To get on Zoloft?

“Uh- yeah, mom. I wanna… see a therapist. I don’t care what gender,” he told her, still amazed that this was even happening. It was good news, but he was still upset over Kyle. There was still a chance that things would change, but Kyle would always feel uncomfortable around him now. 

She smiled at him. “Are you sure? You don’t have a preference? I’ll call one and see if they can get you in next week, or as soon as possible. I really hope this works for you, honey.”

“Um, no, not really. And yeah, me too…” he trailed off, looking down at his blanket.

Sharon stood up and turned to Randy, giving him a look. “Okay… well, I’ll be sure to call someone tomorrow during my lunch break. Maybe you should go check on Kyle later. See if he’s feeling any better. I hope he doesn’t have the stomach flu… ugh, that’s been going around at work,” she sighed, putting her hand on Randy’s arm as she passed him, leaving the room.

“...Okay, Mom,” Stan mumbled. He stared down at his toes, waiting for his father to leave.

Once his room was empty, he shoved his earbuds in his ears and laid back down. He couldn’t blame his mom for suggesting to check on Kyle- it wasn’t like she knew what happened. But if Stan went to his house, he knew it would make everything worse. Or Kyle would just repeat what he messaged him and ask him to leave.

Would he?

He already apologized. Apologizing wouldn’t do any good- but was there something he could do to make it up to him?

God. Stan grabbed his phone and opened his music app, turning the playlist on and closing his eyes. His stomach growled, but he ignored it, pushing those thoughts away. He didn’t need to eat. He didn’t need to brush his teeth, either. Stan would do it… later. Maybe.


	5. Happy Birthday, Stan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning; slurs, cartman being... uh, gross ... ?

Kyle slipped into the bathroom and turned the light off, huffing when Kenny jabbed him in the side with his elbow. “Can you move?” Kenny said, pushing past Kyle to crack the door.

He rolled his eyes. “Stand next to the toilet or something, Kenny. God. Why don’t you move?” he hissed, pressing his back against the wall and taking his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. 7:37 PM. Stan should’ve been home by now.

“Can you boys be quiet in there?” Sharon scolded, passing the bathroom and leaving to stand next to the light switch in the living room. Cartman came up behind her, trying to wedge himself in the bathroom with Kyle and Kenny, but Kyle moved to block him.

“Fatass. There’s not room in here for you. Leave.”

Kyle heard Cartman’s labored breathing- it happened every time Kyle pissed him off or objected to one of his stupid plans. “Yes there is, Kahl! It’s a bathroom, not a closet! Let me ihnn, I won’t have anywhere to hide!”

“Hide with Randy in the laundry room,” he suggested, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

“I was, but he started masturbating,” Cartman whispered. “Let me in, Kahl, I’ll give you four bucks.” Both of those things were a lie- Kyle really couldn’t see Cartman paying him, and he couldn’t see Randy masturbating in front of Cartman- but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to give up any time soon.

And if it ended up happening, four bucks… was four bucks, after all. “Goddamn it. Whatever, Cartman, fine,” he muttered, moving away from the door and pulling it open for Cartman to get through. “But if you touch me I’m going to snap all of your fingers backward.”

“Money-hungry Jew,” he sneered, pushing past Kyle and settling somewhere in the bathroom. Kyle couldn’t really see, but he didn’t care where Cartman was, as long as they weren’t touching each other.

“Now pay up.”

“Guys! Guys, I see him outside!” Butters called from the living room. Kyle heard Butters’ little footsteps scamper past his hallway and come to a stop somewhere in the kitchen. “Get ready!”

Kyle let his back rest against the cool wall behind him, taking in a deep, shaky breath. He regretted his choice to come to Stan’s birthday party, but he hoped Stan would be distracted with everything else. Like the fact Sharon and Randy got him a car, or the million other people that were there. He only agreed because it would be kind of a dick move to not come to his birthday party at all- Kyle knew he would be offended if Stan skipped his, even if they weren’t on the best.. terms.

The entire house was silent, so silent that Kyle could hear the doorknob twist and the door start to open. He sensed Kenny and Cartman moving closer to the door. Kyle slid across the wall, putting himself as far away from them as possible.

Someone- probably Sharon- turned the living room lights on, and the front door slammed shut. “Surprise!” a few people yelled, Butters’ and Randy’s voice being the loudest. Kyle stared at Kenny and Cartman as they leaned out of the bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh… wow,” he could hear Stan say from the living room. Kenny and Cartman left the bathroom, probably to go talk to him or whatever. Kyle stood near the door, craning his head out to watch Stan. He didn’t look surprised at all, which made sense. They had no celebration earlier in the day, it was obvious that Sharon and Randy planned something for that night. It didn’t matter if the party was truly a surprise, though.

Stan smiled as soon as his eyes met Kyle’s. “Oh, hey dude!” he said, opening his mouth to say something else, but stopping short.

Kyle didn’t need to guess to know what he was going to say.  _ I didn’t expect you to be here.  _ He avoided Stan for the last few days of school- by Wednesday, Stan pretty much accepted it and stopped interrogating him, but he still felt bad about it. Like, sure- Kyle was uncomfortable after what happened, but that wasn’t Stan’s fault. It was his own.

He left the bathroom and stood next to him. “Hey,” Kyle greeted, staring down at him. “Sorry for being a dick to you this week,” he said in a low voice, hoping nobody would overhear and ask questions. 

Stan nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he whispered back, looking around at the people surrounding him, namely Butters. “I’ll talk to you later, Ky.”

_ Ky.  _ Kyle nodded, turning away to go distract himself with something else, knowing he would probably end up staring at the cake and wondering when Sharon would slice it.

_ Oh no… they’re having pizza first. Goddamn it.  _ He was still on his period, and craving anything and everything, but specifically cake right now.

“Damn, Kyle, would you stop glaring at me like that?” Kenny teased, nudging him in the shoulder. “Take it out on Cartman.”

“Oops,” he muttered. He was staring? “Didn’t mean to. Where is Cartman? Fucker owes me money.” It was a good excuse to get out of the living room and away from Stan (and the cake) since Kyle didn’t see Cartman around anywhere. He also wanted an excuse to hound Cartman about the four dollars, even if he wasn’t getting it.

Kenny shrugged, leaving Kyle’s side to rip open a bag of chips on the makeshift table holding the cake and napkins. He took one last look at Stan before leaving the living room, deciding to look in the kitchen first.

And there Cartman was, opening a can of Pepsi and chugging it, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat. Kyle leaned against the counter and opened his palm.

Cartman set the Pepsi down and burped. “What? You want my pop? It’s already empty.”

“No, bitch, I want my four dollars.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jews.”

“Yeah, Cartman. I know I’m a Jew, you’ve only said it fifteen times in the last ten minutes.” Kyle looked away from Cartman, his eyes landing on the set of car keys Sharon was going to give Stan after they ate cake. “I’m bored.”

“Go talk to your boyfriend.”

Rolling his eyes back, Kyle left the kitchen and ran up the stairs, deciding to lock himself in the upstairs bathroom until someone decided to harass him to eat pizza or cake. At least he could take his binder off and have a breather.

-

“Rich boy,” Cartman sneered, running up the stairs. “Already got a car. Just like Token.”

“No, Token doesn’t have a car yet. His birthday isn’t until June, dumbass,” Stan retorted, opening his bedroom door and stepping inside. “Who even invited you?”

Cartman smirked. “Your parents.”

“They still think we’re friends?” he joked, sitting down on his bed. “What do you guys wanna do?”

“Well, we can play truth or dare! That’s what Kenny and I always do when we spend the night at Scott Malkinson’s house,” Butters said enthusiastically, plopping down next to Stan on the bed. “What do y’all think?”

_ Lame. Kenny plays truth or dare with Scott and Butters?  _ Kyle nodded, not really caring what the hell they did. Truth or dare was basically Russian roulette with Cartman playing, but he knew Stan and Kenny would step in and take his side if Cartman dared him to do anything too outrageous. “Sounds good, Butters,” Kenny pitched in from somewhere behind Kyle.

“Uh, yeah. That works,” Stan said, clearly not caring much either. The only person who had a problem with truth or dare was Cartman, but that was typical.

Begrudgingly, Cartman wound up sitting on the floor in a circle with the rest of them, playing the game. They used Kenny’s empty Coke bottle to decide who dared who. “Butters, you’re first,” Kenny grinned, tracing the tip of the bottle cap to where Butters sat with his index finger.

“Wait, hold on you guys,” Cartman interrupted, putting his hands out. “We have to have a punishment for whoever chickens first.” He fake-coughed. “Kahl, heh.”

“No we don’t,” Stan muttered. “Let’s just dare each other, okay?”

Kenny sat back down. “Cartman’s right, though. If we don’t have a punishment, everybody is just gonna chicken out.”

Kyle sat back against Stan’s dresser, watching Kenny and Stan fight with half-lidded eyes. He didn’t want to be punished for chickening out, but he was sure whatever they decided wouldn’t be so bad.

They tossed ideas around, most of them Kyle thought were stupid, until they finally decided on a penalty. “Okay. The first person who chickens has to be blindfolded for the rest of the game, the second person who chickens has to take a cold shower with all of their clothes on, and the last one has to swallow an entire container of mustard.”

Kyle glared at Cartman. He hated mustard. “Can the condiments be interchangeable?”

“Ugh. Fine, Jew, always bending the rules.”

“Dude, it’s not funny. It doesn’t even piss him off anymore, it’s just repetitive,” Stan muttered, crossing his arms. “Okay, Butters goes first.”

They played the game for a while, Kyle always picking truth when it was Cartman’s turn to ask him a question. Being blindfolded wasn’t that bad, but he didn’t want to take a cold shower or swallow an entire container of ketchup or mayonnaise. The blindfold punishment hadn’t been used yet, but Kyle was being careful.

“Kahl, truth or dare,” Cartman asked him for what felt like the millionth time.

“Truth.”

“Kaaahhl!” Cartman whined. “You can’t deww that!”

Kyle sighed. “Why can’t I? It’s truth or dare.”

“Actually, Kyle- sorry, but yeah, that does seem kind of unfair,” Kenny chimed in.  _ Always fucking ruining shit for me, aren’t you, Kenny?  _ he thought pessimistically, glaring at him.

He looked back at Cartman, crossing his arms, trying to mentally brace himself for whatever dare Cartman might give him. “Dare.”

“Okay, Kahll, take off your pants.”

“No.” Kyle wasn’t even surprised at this point.

“That’s a chicken. Stan, do you have a shirt or somethin’ he can cover his eyes-”

“Uh, Cartman? That doesn’t count. That’s really weird, dude,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “Like, nobody in this room wants to see Kyle without his pants on. Except for me and you.”

Kyle wrinkled up his nose at Kenny’s “joke,” wondering if he was even joking. “No, you forgot about Stan. He wants to see Kahl with his pants off, not me.”

“Aw, come on, Kenny! It was a dare, and he chickened! He has to do it!” Butters protested. Butters was pretty wishy-washy when it came between taking Cartman’s side or Kenny’s side, but Kyle wondered if Cartman had done a little extra brainwashing earlier at the party.

“Yeah, Cartman. Make him do a different one. And- no, I’ve already seen him in his underwear,” Stan retorted.

Kenny perked up. “What? When?”

“...Every Friday when I do his injections?”

He looked disappointed. “Oh, that makes sense. Okay.”

Cartman crossed his arms, finally deciding to change his mind. He stared at Kyle. “Fine. Kiss Stan, then, since you want a new dare.”

Kyle stood up, grabbing a throw blanket off of Stan’s bed and sitting back down. “Fine, Cartman. I’ll take my fucking pants off, since you want me to so badly,” he muttered, putting the blanket over his legs and taking his shorts off underneath it.

“That doesn’t count, you’re still covering yourself. And I already gave you a new dare.”

“It does so count! I took my fucking pants off, genius.” Just to be on the safe side, Kyle put them back on, still underneath the blanket. He didn’t want Cartman to get any ideas and rip the blanket off of him.

Cartman huffed. “Just kiss Stan, fag.”

“No. Give me a shirt or something, I’ll be blindfolded then.”

“You’re no fun,” Cartman muttered, standing up and digging through Stan’s dresser drawers for a shirt. He threw one at Kyle, watching as it landed on the floor next to him.

Kyle grabbed the shirt and tied it around his head, covering his eyes. “I’m no fun because I won’t get fucking naked for you when you’re daring Butters and Kenny stupid shit that they would never chicken on? Shut up, Cartman. If you want to see me naked, just spy on me while I’m in the shower or something. It isn’t that hard.”

“I’m not a faggot, Kahl! I just want to see you swallow a whole container of mustard! Stop pretending that I like you just because you’re attracted to me and you know it would never happen,” he said smugly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stan asked. Kyle smiled to himself, glad that at least one person was coming to his defense. “Take the blindfold off, Kyle.”

Kyle slipped it off of his head, staring at Stan from across the circle. “I think it’s really obvious that you have a thing for Kyle. Stop taking it out on him that he doesn’t like you back. And no, he doesn’t have to fucking take his pants off. If someone dared you to take your pants off, you would whine and cry about it. So either give him another dare and stop being a dick or fucking leave.”

“Oh, look Kahl, it’s your boyfriend taking up for you! Well, I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable taking my pants off because I’m not a fucking tranny.”

Stan stood up. “Get out.”

“Why? Because he can’t handle the truth?”

“What truth? That he doesn’t want you seeing him without fucking pants on? God, dude, just fucking leave. That was really creepy, and now you’re just being a bitch about it.”

Cartman stood up. “Whatever. I’ll see you fags at skewl on Monday.” He left the room. Kyle could hear his footsteps stomping down the stairway.

“Kyle, come here,” Stan said, leaving his bedroom and stopping in the hallway.

He stood up, looking at Kenny and Butters before leaving the room to follow Stan. “What, dude?”

“Are you okay?” Stan asked, taking Kyle’s hand and leading him into the bathroom. He closed the door and turned the light on. “I’m sorry, dude, I should’ve stopped him earlier.”

Kyle turned around and hopped up on the sink, letting his legs dangle off of the edge. “It’s fine, that’s just how he is,” Kyle muttered. “Not your fault.”

“Yeah, but… dude. I should’ve stopped him before he could upset you. You are okay, right?”

“I’m okay, Stan. He’s always like that.” He was more angry than anything else- for once, he genuinely thought Cartman might be capable of shutting up and having one tame night. “I’m okay.”

Stan nodded, moving closer and wrapping his arms around Kyle’s neck and shoulders. “Okay. You don’t have to spend the night if you don’t want to… uh, I mean- I want you here, but I don’t want you to have to put up with me. Like, if you’re still uncomf-”

“Stan. It’s fine,” Kyle repeated, hugging him back. “I was just overreacting.” He  _ had  _ been overreacting, but he couldn’t help how he felt. “I’m gonna spend the night, and I’m sorry for- avoiding you? I just didn’t know how to… handle it. But I’m okay now.”

“Okay,” he nodded, pulling his arms away and looking down. “Okay. Yeah.”

“I missed you,” Kyle admitted.

Stan smiled and stared back up at him. “I missed you too, dude. Uh, do you want me to kick Kenny and Butters out? If you want to be alone with me or whatever, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“No, no. Kenny and Butters are fine. And…” Kyle went on, not really wanting to keep speaking but unable to help himself. “I think I was more… embarrassed that I liked… it. I said it was because, um, I was dysphoric, but that’s only a smaller… part of it. Does that make sense? Sorry,” he said, deciding to stop his rambling before he said something he would really regret.

Stan blinked at him. “No. But it’s okay. Like, obviously you were gonna enjoy it… because I was f-... yeah. We can stop talking about this,” he said sheepishly, smiling. “You wanna go back in there? If you’re tired, I can put on a movie or whatever…”

“Sure. Uh, Stan?” Kyle asked, grinning.

“Hm?”

“Since you have a car, can you drive me to school whenever you get your permit?”

Stan poked him in the cheek. “Duh. I guess I’m going to have to get a job now to pay for gas money, huh?”

“...Yeah. I guess. Couldn’t you work with your uncles or something?”

“What, the gun shop, or killing random animals for money?” he teased, putting his arms around Kyle’s waist and sliding him off of the bathroom sink. “I can’t shoot animals all day, dude.”

“No, the gun shop. I know you won’t kill animals, you’re too sensitive,” Kyle teased, standing up and turning the bathroom light off.

Stan frowned at him. “Would you? Kill animals for money, I mean?”

“Only if it paid well. But they just kill deer and stuff, not… kittens, dude. It’s stuff people actually eat.”

“Still,” he mumbled, stepping back into his bedroom. “Are you guys tired?” Stan asked, staring down at Kenny and Butters who were still sitting on the floor. Kenny had his arm around Butters. Kyle watched them suspiciously, yet without judgement.

Kenny shrugged, turning to look at Butters. “Hmm.. sure! Is Kyle okay?” Butters asked, sitting up straighter.

“I’m good,” he nodded, taking a deep breath and bending over to grab his bag from the corner of his room, surprised that Butters even cared. Kyle crouched down and unzipped it, taking his pajamas out and looking over at Kenny, Butters, and Stan while they talked.

Eventually everyone started to change into their clothes, with Stan standing in front of Kyle like he did in the locker room while he got undressed. Stan took off his shirt. “Do you guys want to be on the bed or what?” he asked, grabbing a different shirt and tugging it over his head.

“Don’t care,” Kenny admitted. “Butters?”

“Aw, I dunno. I’m okay on the floor, but I think Kenny should get the bed, the floor is bad for his back.”

Kenny turned back to Stan. “We could probably all fit on the bed without the fatass here anyway, so it’s up to you guys.”

“...Okay. You done, Kyle?”

Kyle pulled his hoodie over his head. “Yeah. I’m done.” He preferred wearing hoodies when he was over at Stan’s house because they were thicker and hid his chest better than the normal oversized t-shirts he wore when he was alone, but he knew Stan probably didn’t pay attention either way. He stepped out from behind Stan and picked up his discarded clothes, shoving them back into his backpack.

He found himself on Stan’s bed, sandwiched between Butters and Stan while a movie played on TV. Kyle stared at the soft glow coming from the screen, not really focusing on what the movie was about. He was going over the past few weeks in his head, reliving everything that happened.

Stan put an arm around him.

Kyle tensed up, watching Butters from the corner of his eye. Stan’s arm was under the covers, so Butters and Kenny were completely oblivious.

He focused on the screen again, finding himself sinking into the mattress and enjoying the weight from Stan’s arm around his waist.

He closed his eyes.


	6. Early Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning read the tags, smut (??) and dysphoria inducing stuff if ur trans

_ Oh no. Oh God. _

Stan shifted his legs, now laying flat on his back.  _ He felt that, he totally felt that. Yikes. _

He watched as Kyle opened his eyes and propped his elbow up on the pillow, holding up his head with his hand. “Hey, dude,” he spoke, his intense green eyes boring into Stan’s. “You’re finally awake.”

“Sorry,” Stan spoke. “I didn’t-”

Kyle grinned and moved closer to him. “No, no. It’s okay. Not your fault you have a boner.” Kyle always woke up before he did, and Stan often found him sitting at the dinner table and eating breakfast with his family, or sitting up in bed on his phone while he waited for Stan to wake up. He guessed he just needed more sleep than Kyle did to function, but it was kind of annoying. It made Stan feel like Kyle was better than him, or more productive or something… which was definitely true, but still bugged him.

“...Okay. Uh, I’m gonna go piss, I’ll be right back,” he excused himself, standing up and leaving the room. Stan wondered why Kyle didn’t just  _ move  _ his leg. Maybe he truly wasn’t bothered by the fact that Stan’s dick was rubbing up against his leg.

He finished up in the bathroom, plopping back down next to Kyle and turning to look at Kenny and Butters. “I think Kenny likes him,” Stan spoke absently, rubbing his eyes.

Kyle was staring at him, his head tilted downward. “...Stan.” 

“What, dude?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Can you, uh…” he trailed off, looking away. “Y’know.”

Stan blinked. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he knew what it had to be- there was only one possible thing Kyle would be embarrassed about.

“I won’t get mad at you and avoid you again, promise. And if you don’t want to help, that’s okay, because, uh- I’ll just leave and go somewhere else, but I’m-” Kyle paused, looking over his shoulder to make sure Kenny and Butters were still asleep, “I’m really fucking horny,” he admitted, his voice lowered.

Stan wasn’t sure if that was out of embarrassment or the fact that he wanted Kenny and Butters to stay asleep. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking through the situation. Kyle did promise not to get mad at him, and he loved seeing Kyle shudder and curl his toes like he did the weekend before… “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Please,” Kyle begged. “I won’t get mad, and- last time it was.. good. You were better than I am at it, and your… fingers are bigger, so..”

He found heat rising to his face as Kyle went on. Stan loved hearing Kyle beg and explain himself, explain why he  _ needed  _ Stan to help him. “Come on,” he said, standing up and taking Kyle’s forearm. “Let’s, uh… we can go in the bathroom or in the basement. Basement is less suspicious I think, my parents won’t pound on the door,” he whispered, lowering his voice now that they were in the hallway, walking down the stairs.  _ Is this going to become a thing? Please let this become a thing.  _

_ Does he like me? Oh god, do I need to ask? Is this the wrong time? He’s horny right now, his judgement is probably off- _

His judgement was off. That’s why Kyle was asking him to jerk him off, that’s what led to Kyle regretting things in the first place. He paused halfway down the stairs, Kyle’s wrist still in his hand.

“What, Stan? You okay?” Kyle asked, stepping down in front of him. “You don’t have to do it, I said-”

“No, no. I mean, I want to help you, but are you… sure? Because your judgement was off last time, I really don’t want you to hate me.” He felt stupid for saying it- Kyle had apologized and came back to him after realizing his mistake, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to deal with Kyle avoiding him at school again. Stan spent that entire week sulking and regretting his decisions.

Kyle sighed and took Stan’s arm, trying to lead him further down the stairs. “I’m good. Look, Stan, I’ll do it myself if you’re so hesitant. But I won’t hate you this time, I’ve thought about it for a whole week.”

Kyle was right, as always. “..’Kay,” Stan agreed, following Kyle down the stairs. There was no way Kyle would get mad at him this time. “Are you still- uh, do I need to get a towel?”

“Uh… kind of. Just grab one anyway,” he advised, stopping next to the downstairs bathroom to wait for Stan.

Once they were in the basement, Stan spread the towel out on the couch and watched as Kyle sat down and took his pajama bottoms off, mesmerized. Kyle had  _ firecrotch?  _ It was hard to see last time, considering it was dark in Stan’s bedroom, but.. wow.

Stan sat down next to him, waiting, trying not to look awkward but failing miserably. Kyle shifted to look at him. “Okay, go ahead.” He put an arm around Stan’s shoulders, bracing himself.

“Wait, don’t I have to get you… wet?” he said slowly, immediately feeling stupid after the words were out of his mouth.

Kyle gave him a look. “I am. I was since I woke up this morning.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stan mumbled, reaching out and letting his hand rest on Kyle’s thigh.  _ Why am I so nervous? You did it last time, just do it again, it’s not that h- _

“Stan,” he whined, putting a hand on Stan’s chest. “If you’re not gonna do it, i-”

“Nonono, I will, I will.” It was the truth, but he was  _ scared.  _ Scared of fucking things up, or somehow making things awkward again, or even not doing as good as he did the first time. “I will,” he repeated.

Kyle grinned, grabbing Stan’s hand and moving it closer. “You’re nervous.”

“...Yeah,” he admitted. “I am, dude.” Stan pressed his middle finger past Kyle’s lips and further inside him, yet hesitantly. Kyle was right- he was already soaking wet.

“It’s cute,” Kyle teased. Stan decided to ignore that.

He still wasn’t sure whether he was able to hurt Kyle like this- what if he pressed up too hard? What would happen then?  _ His vagina won’t fucking rip open, idiot. Just shut up. Everything was fine last time. Do what you did last time. _

His eyes met Kyle’s.  _ He’s okay. You’re okay. Do it. He probably likes you.  _

_ No he doesn’t!  _ he shouted inside his head, desperately wishing he could shut himself up and stop having these stupid thoughts. 

Stan broke eye contact, looking back down to focus on what he was doing. Now was not the time to wonder if Kyle was secretly in love with him, he had to finger Kyle, and if he wanted Kyle to ask him again he had to do a good job of it. Stan pressed another finger in and replicated the gesture he did last time, glancing back at Kyle.

Kyle’s hips squirmed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. A good sign? He went on, speeding up and pressing his thumb against Kyle’s clit, suddenly feeling lost. Could Kyle come both ways?

God, he knew nothing about anatomy. Maybe he would look it up later.

_ Doesn’t matter. He liked what you did last time. Do what you did last time. _

“Tell me if it hurts,” Stan reminded him, rubbing his thumb harder against Kyle’s clit. “Or, um- if you want me to do something else.”

“Okay, go like, ten times faster and harder.”

Stan smiled sheepishly, trying to calm himself down. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, picking up the pace. Kyle inhaled sharply before letting his head rest on Stan’s shoulder.

“More,” he begged. “More- hgh- ahh, Stan- please..”

_ I’m doing good. I am. He likes it,  _ Stan reminded himself, slowly becoming aware of how fragile his ego was. “Want me to pull your hair? Like last time?”

“Ye- yeah, agh, do it,” he said between shaky breaths. “God… please, please, I-”

Kyle didn’t finish his sentence. Stan reached up behind Kyle’s head and yanked at a lock of hair, ignoring the slight cramp growing in his hand as Stan watched Kyle’s head fall backwards. “Mmm, more… Stan, please, go fas- ah-h-”

_ How do I dirty talk? What if I ruin the mood or something?  _ he thought. Stan decided Kyle probably didn’t  _ want  _ him to dirty talk- hair-pulling was the only thing Kyle asked for. 

“St- ah, S-Stan-” Kyle stammered, gritting his teeth and watching Stan from the corner of his eye. “I’m- more, I’m gon- mm- gonna come...”

_ Already?  _ Stan moved his thumb faster around Kyle’s clit, watching his facial expressions change as he came closer to climaxing. He listened to Kyle’s labored breathing, learning to adjust to the way Kyle bucked and tensed his hips the more he played with him. Stan moved his own face closer to Kyle’s, deciding to take a chance and press himself against Kyle’s neck, inhaling his scent.

“God! G-Goddamn it, Ss-Stan,  _ faster!”  _ Kyle demanded, his grip tightening around Stan’s shoulders and chest. “Fucking- fucking… ugh, I’m- ah- almost there-” he panted. “Harder.”

_ So needy,  _ Stan thought absently, rubbing Kyle’s wet clit as fast as he could possibly go now.  _ So forceful. He’s perfect.  _ He inhaled again, trying to decipher exactly what he was smelling. Maybe it was the body wash Kyle used in the shower, or the cologne he spritzed under the armpits of his shirt, or the neglected shampoo that ran down his back and neck while he washed his hair. Whatever it was, it was good. Balsamic. Intoxicating.

As soon as Stan felt Kyle’s vaginal muscles contracting, Kyle let out a light whimper, reaching down to pull Stan’s hand away. “I’m done,” he whispered, still panting and trying to catch his breath.

“What?” Stan asked without thinking, moving his head away from Kyle’s neck.

“I came, that’s what,” Kyle answered snarkily, before laughing to let him know he was joking. Stan released his grip on Kyle’s hair and started to wipe his fingers off on the towel, only half-aware of what was going on.

Stan smiled at the redness on Kyle’s face, watching him let his head rest against the back of the couch and try to catch his breath. Seeing Kyle all sweaty and flustered made Stan’s heart flutter, especially knowing that  _ he  _ did that to Kyle.

Seven minutes later, Kyle sat up suddenly. “That was good. Thanks.” He leaned over and pulled his pants and underwear back on.

“Mhm. You’re cute when you’re out of breath.”

Kyle stood up to pull his pants over his ass, and once they were on, he stood in front of Stan. “Whatever.”

“Cutie,” Stan whispered.

He smiled. “Whatever you say,” Kyle whispered back, lifting his leg and letting one knee rest on the soft cushion of the couch. He then lifted himself up, now sitting on Stan’s lap.

Stan’s lips parted in surprise. “Uh,” he said stupidly.

“You still have that morning wood from earlier?” Kyle whispered, his grin widening. “I could help you.”

_ He’s flirting with you, idiot, he’s into you. Flirt back. _

_ No. I agreed to finger him and he’s offering to help me. Not into me. _

“Uh, yes,” Stan said, still dazed. He didn’t have the same boner he had when he woke up- it was brought back from watching Kyle shudder, moan, and beg for him, but he didn’t want to explain that Kyle actually turned him on. Would that be too weird to talk about, or was it blatantly obvious that Stan was attracted to him? “I mean- I do, and- uh, you can help if you want.. you don’t have to,” he clarified.

“I want to,” he spoke, tracing his finger along the outline of Stan’s bulge. “You deserve it.” His voice was still at a whisper, but since Kyle decided to plop himself down on Stan’s lap, it had definitely grown more seductive.

_ This is a test, he’s seeing if you like him. _

Stan knew the thought was stupid, but he entertained it for a bit as he watched Kyle’s finger. So what if Kyle was testing him? That meant Kyle liked him back, right?

“Do you want me to put it in my mouth?” Kyle asked, tilting his head and leaning closer so that he was whispering right into Stan’s ear, his hot breath lingering on Stan’s skin.

He thought about it. “No, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to,” Stan repeated. “I didn’t eat you out or anything, so it wouldn’t be fair.” Sex wasn’t about fairness, and he knew that, but he still wanted things to be even. Hell, it wasn’t even sex.. it was basically assisted masturbation. Stan was thinking too far into it.

“So you don’t want me to?” Kyle raised his eyebrows. “Passing up a good opportunity here.”

“No. I’m not gonna make you.”

Kyle shrugged, pulling down the waistband of Stan’s pajama pants with his index finger. He adjusted himself, now halfway on Stan’s lap and halfway on the couch, his right leg underneath him and his left leg straddling Stan’s thigh. Kyle pulled down Stan’s underwear, narrowing his eyebrows when he finally saw Stan’s cock.

“You’re uncircumcised?” he said, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief, as if Stan had herpes instead of more foreskin.

“Yeah? Do you think that’s, like, gross or something?”

Kyle met his eyes. “Uh, no. No, sorry,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “It’s not gross. I’ve just never seen anyone uncircumcised before.”

“...I didn’t expect you to have firecrotch,” Stan teased, lightly punching Kyle in the shoulder. 

Kyle nudged him back, looking back down at Stan’s dick. “Whatever,” he said again, reaching out and pulling his foreskin back. “God, that’s so weird. Sorry. I mean, it’s not weird, but… okay, it’s weird,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Um, I’ll do it now.”

Stan found it cute how curious Kyle was. Everything Kyle did was cute in Stan’s opinion, though. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Kyle spit in his hand and begin to jerk him off, nervous and excited at the same time. Kyle took his hand away, frowning.

_ It’s just a handjob,  _ he told himself.

_ So? It’s from Kyle. It’s special. _

Spitting in his hand again, Kyle looked into Stan’s eyes as he wrapped his fingers back around and started to move his wrist. “Think anyone’s awake?”

He stared down at Kyle’s hand, hypnotized by the motion. “My mom,” Stan guessed, his breathing gradually growing heavier as Kyle went on.

Stan decided it would be better if he just relaxed and let Kyle do his thing- there was no point in worrying if they got caught. It wouldn’t  _ stop  _ them from getting caught. “Um, thanks Kyle,” he said, in case he hadn’t displayed his gratitude enough before.

“Well, you did it for me,” Kyle said, leaning closer. “Anytime, dude.” He spit in his hand again, and when he resumed the motion, sped up. 

“Still, I- you needed it,” he went on, sinking into the couch beneath him. Stan was simultaneously anxious and relaxed at the same time. 

Kyle bit his lip. “Do you like talking while we do this or something?”

“Sorry.” He could feel himself coming closer to ejaculating, and wondered why Kyle wanted to help him in the first place. “I didn’t know what- else to do, so I mean…”

He put his free hand over Stan’s mouth. “You don’t need to say anything. Just relax.”

Stan nodded, inhaling the faint scent of hand sanitizer on Kyle’s fingers.  _ Just relax,  _ he told himself, but it was nearly impossible- his crush was giving him a handjob and googly eyes. Was anybody able to relax when something like that happened?

Then he remembered that he forgot to tell Kyle that his mom was trying to get him in with a therapist. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Bad timing.

His cock throbbed once, then again. Stan stared down at his penis and Kyle’s still-moving hand, watching his semen pool around Kyle’s fingers. 

Kyle grinned again and wiped his hand off with the towel, removing his other hand from Stan’s mouth. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Stan smiled, studying Kyle’s face. He actually enjoyed doing that to him? Wild. “I have something to tell you, I kinda forgot to earlier.”

“Hm?” Kyle hummed, picking up the towel and wiping the remaining cum off of his dick.

Stan ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, cringing at the fuzzy feeling. “Uh, my mom is going to get me in with a therapist soon.”

He set the towel down and made eye contact with Stan, beaming. “Dude, that’s- jeez. Finally!” Kyle exclaimed, throwing his arms around his best friend. “Only took four years to convince them… hah.”

He pursed his lips together and reached down to pull his underwear back over his dick. “I think-”

“Boys!” Sharon yelled from upstairs. “I made pancakes! Why are you in the basement?” she asked. Stan tensed up, listening to the basement door creak open and her footsteps descending against the wooden stairs.

Kyle gave Stan a wild grin before letting go of the hug, grabbing the towel and stuffing it underneath the couch to avoid questioning. “Sorry, Mom! We’re coming!” Stan yelled, hastily standing up and adjusting his pajama bottoms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the end of this chapter was weird, hand jobs are boring


	7. Gonorrhea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning; misgendering, slut shaming (?), threats

“Hey,” Kyle greeted, standing up from his seat. “How did it go?”

It was now early December, and the two of them masturbating together had become a routine thing at this point, even if neither of them wanted to talk about it. Stan had his first appointment with a therapist in late October, who decided he  _ should  _ be on Zoloft after all; he had just got out from his fourth appointment and returned to school. There was only one class period left in the day, but he would rather have a tardy over a full absence so his parents wouldn’t have to go to court for truancy. Plus… he wanted to see Kyle.

Stan smiled up at him. “Uh, it was good.” His therapist was an older man, in his 50s or 60s, and their main topic that day was Kyle. Not that Stan would admit it to him, but it felt nice to have someone else to listen to his problems, especially when they were about… him. Not like he could go to Kyle for relationship advice on himself, right?

“Okay, good. You still coming over?”

“Yep,” he answered, sitting down next to Kyle in his desk. “If you’re not tired of me yet,” Stan added quietly.

Kyle hit him in the side. “No, dude. I’m not. I’m not gonna get  _ tired  _ of you, I haven’t once in the last fifteen years.”

“...Okay,” Stan murmured, staring down at his desk. “What are we doing?”

“Uh, nothing. Mr. Garrison is texting his new boyfriend.”

He smiled, glad he wouldn’t have to listen to Mr. Garrison’s rants about how Kanye should break up with Kim Kardashian or whatever. “Cool.”

“Hey, Stan,” Red said from a few rows ahead of them, leaning backwards in her desk to look at him.

Stan blinked. “Uh, hi?” Red didn’t usually talk to him- he couldn’t imagine what she wanted. Probably something stupid.

“You and your girlfriend are cute together,” she said, making Bebe snicker from a few aisles to his left.

“I broke up with Wendy two years ago? Oh… if you mean at the homecoming dance, Annie was flirting with  _ me-  _ I don’t like her.”

Bebe grinned and leaned forward. “She means Kyle.”

Kyle’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Stan spoke over him. “If he’s a girl, then why doesn’t he bash both of your faces in? It would be a fair fight, according to you,” Stan crossed his arms. He knew  _ where  _ the sudden anger was coming from- Red and Bebe being bitches to Kyle- but as he listened to himself speak, it felt… weird. 

“Red, didn’t you give Clyde gonorrhea two months ago? I wouldn’t be talking,” Craig spoke up from behind Kyle, making Stan laugh.

Red stood up. “What? Who told you that?” she asked Craig, visibly angry. “No, I didn’t!”

“Y-Yeah, Ruh-Red. Nobody wants your skuh-s-skank puh-p-puh-ssy.”

Kyle turned back to look at Jimmy; he was beaming at that point. He really didn’t expect anyone aside from Stan to stick up for him.

“Come on, guys. It was just a joke,” Bebe said, trying to defend herself and Red.

“No, buh-bitch. Ih-in order for it to be a joke, it has to be fuh-f-funny,” Jimmy said.

Red rolled her eyes and sat back down. “At least I’m not a cripple.”

Craig stared at her. “I’d rather be crippled than give the whole school gonorrhea.”

“I  _ didn’t!”  _ Red cried, slamming her palms down on her desk. “Shut up, Clyde is just lying!”

Bebe nodded. “She doesn’t have gonorrhea, don’t slut-shame.”

“Oh, so she can make fun of minorities, but we can’t slut-shame her?” Kyle said, finally able to stand up for himself. 

“...Whatever. I’m sorry, Kyle,” she said. “Red  _ is  _ being a bitch.”

Red hit her desk again. “No I’m not!”

Nobody was listening to her anymore, they were all on Kyle’s side. Stan stared at him from where he sat, smiling faintly. 

-

The two of them got to Stan’s house a little late after staying after to talk to Craig and Jimmy, but once they got inside, they decided to get their homework over with and play video games when they were done. 

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked, sitting up straight on the bed.

Stan shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired, I guess.” He glanced back down at his worksheet, sighing. “This sucks.”

“What, math? I’m giving you all of the answers,” he said, closing his textbook and throwing it on Stan’s dresser. “We can do this later. I think you should take a nap, you look really tired.” That was true- Stan’s eyes weren’t bloodshot, but he had a hard time keeping his eyes open and concentrating. Whenever Kyle would ask him a question, it always took a few seconds for Stan to comprehend what he was saying.

“Kyle, I’m okay. Let’s just finish this.”

Kyle crossed his arms, getting an idea. “No. Lay down. Let’s cuddle.” 

He sighed. “Fine, okay.” Stan kicked his shoes off and let them fall to the floor. He opened his dresser drawer and threw two shirts on the bed, taking off his jacket.

Standing up, Kyle picked one of them up and made his way to the other side of the room, behind Stan so he wouldn’t see. “Do you think it’s the Zoloft that’s making you tired?” he suggested. Would that even be a side effect? Kyle wasn’t sure- maybe he would look it up later while Stan slept.

“Maybe. I’m tired all the time, though.” Stan had his shirt off and was now throwing the new one over his head.

Kyle inhaled. “I dunno. You don’t really take naps… did you stay up late last night?” He took his binder off, setting it on the edge of the bed. He put the shirt on.

“No. Remember? I fell asleep over FaceTime.”

“Right.” Kyle grabbed his binder and shoved it in his backpack so Sharon wouldn’t grab it and decide to throw it in the washer. He opened another dresser drawer, took a pair of Stan’s pajama pants, and put them on.

Once both of them were laying in bed underneath the blankets, he put an arm around Stan.

Stan didn’t do it back, but that was fine. He needed to sleep. Kyle put his arm underneath the pillow and played with Stan’s greasy hair, watching him start to doze off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is a little short! last one was smut so maybe that makes up for it idk
> 
> EDIT: if anyone wants to help me pick a plot to write for my next fic please do i have so many ideas :(


	8. Hanukkah, Day One

“Kyle.”

“...Huh?”

It was the first day of Hanukkah, December 10th. Kyle’s family invited him to celebrate with them that year, even though he wasn’t Jewish. Sheila and Gerald were mostly unorthodox, and given the fact that there wasn’t a synagogue anywhere  _ near  _ South Park, they felt a little detached from their religion, but still observed the holidays. “You wanna.. go out somewhere?”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. They had already finished their prayers and songs, and Sheila was getting ready to make dinner. “What? What does that mean?”

“I- I don’t mean a date, dude. I mean like, go eat somewhere.”

He shook his head. “Mom’s cooking.”

Stan sunk back into the couch. “You don’t even like lasagna,” he reminded Kyle. “And I already talked to her. She said it was fine.”

“Oh- really?” Kyle asked, sitting up straight. “...Okay. Um, I don’t have any money though, I gave Kenny the rest of mine so he could t-”

Stan cut him off. “No, dude. I’ll pay. You don’t have to pay me back.” He took Kyle’s hand and stood up. “Come on.”

“You guys are gay,” Ike muttered from the recliner, looking them up and down. “Gonna fuck in Stan’s car?”

Kyle shot him an angry look. “You can come watch if you want.” Stan didn’t take this as a joke, though- he stiffened up and stared at Ike. Did Ike know something? God, he probably  _ heard  _ them, for god’s sake. Little kids were like that.

But would he tell?

“Ew,” he muttered, looking back down at his iPad. “No. You’re my brother.”

“Then shut up,” he said, yanking Stan’s arm and leaving the house. Stan unlocked his car and both of them got in, Kyle immediately complaining that he forgot to bring a jacket.

He shoved the key in the ignition. “It’ll be okay, dude. I have one in the back seat.” Stan had actually planned to leave one back there, and thankfully it worked. “Hey, tell me where you wanna eat.”

Twisting around to grab a jacket from the back seat, Kyle lifted it and threw it over his arms. “Um… what are you in the mood for?”

“Don’t be shy,” Stan grinned, turning the heat on. “Go ahead.”

“But you’re paying. I think you should get to pick.”

He shook his head, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of his driveway. “No. I’m taking you out, this can be your first Hanukkah present if you want.”

“...Uh, you’re getting me more than one? You don’t have to do that,” Kyle said, looking ahead at the windshield. “I- If you really want me to pick, then, uh. Taco Bell, I guess. I know it’s in North Park, but all we have here is.. City Wok and Raisins, so-”

Stan put a hand on Kyle’s knee. A risky move, but he didn’t think Kyle would object. “Chill. And yeah, Raisins sucks. We can go to North Park,” he said, looking away from Kyle and focusing back on the road.

“Okay,” Kyle said after a while, releasing the tension in his shoulders and laying back against the seat. “God, dude. My back hurts.”

“If you wanna take your binder off, we can just use the drive-thru..”

“No!”

Stan pulled out of the neighborhood. “Why not? Your back hurts, that’s probably why-”

“Because, dude, I can’t take my shirt off in the car.”

“I’m not looking,” he reminded Kyle. “I’ll just look at the road, it’s okay.”

Kyle crossed his arms. “Somebody will see. And it’s gross. I… I’ll be fine, it doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

_ Why does he have to be like this?  _ Stan frowned, lazily staring at the road ahead of him. “Nobody’s gonna see, it’s pitch black out here. The road is empty. Just duck down a little bit, nobody’s gonna see you, dude.”

Hesitantly, Kyle pulled at the sleeves of the jacket Stan lent him. “...Fine,” he muttered, as if it weren’t his choice or something. Kyle took off his shirt, and then his binder. Stan did his best to avoid looking at him while he took it off.

Kyle threw his shirt back over his head. “Told you,” Stan teased, jabbing Kyle in the arm with his elbow as he adjusted his shirt, pulling it back down. “Nobody saw.”

“Whatever.” He put Stan’s jacket back on, slumping against the door and letting his head rest on the window pane. He watched the streetlights pass, his arms crossed.

-

Once they went through the drive-thru and got their food, Stan stopped in the parking lot, setting the bag on the armrest in the middle and digging through it. He gave Kyle his crunchwrap supreme.

Kyle unwrapped it, kicking his shoes off and propping his feet up on the dashboard. He took a bite out of it and chewed as Stan unwrapped one of his tacos.

“So… Kyle.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his mouth full.

“...Anything specific you want this week?” Stan truly had  _ no  _ idea what to get Kyle for Hanukkah. He thought about getting Kyle a Stephen King book, because he loved to read- but as far as Stan knew, Kyle already had them. Every single thing that guy had written. His bookshelf was stuffed.

Then he thought about chocolate, which was a viable option, but there were six other days of Hanukkah. So what then?

Kyle was exceptionally picky when it came to clothing. As far as t-shirts went, Stan knew what he preferred- a 50% cotton, 50% polyester blend, but the shirt had to fit  _ right.  _ The seams of his binder couldn’t poke out, and it had to sit right against his chest (not that Kyle really had a chest, Stan knew he was just being overdramatic about his body, as always). Coats, jackets, and overshirts had to hide his “curves,” and jeans and cargo shorts had to hide his “thighs.” So clothes were pretty hit or miss. He knew Kyle would  _ pretend  _ to like whatever Stan got him, but Stan didn’t want him to have to pretend.

So far, Stan had Taco Bell and chocolate. And that was it. He wanted something that would last- something that would remind Kyle of him every time he looked at it, not temporary things like food. But what?

“Mmm.. nope,” Kyle grinned after swallowing his food. “Just hang out with me. You don’t have to get me anything.”

_ Damn it.  _ Stan was going to get him something whether he liked it or not- he had the money. But no ideas. “I’m gonna get you something, dude. You can’t convince me not to.”

“Whatever. Since you’re gonna end up getting me something, you wanna tell me what you want for Christmas?” Kyle asked, taking another bite of his crunchwrap and raising his eyebrows.

Stan opened his mouth, but then stopped, realizing whatever he said would be hypocritical. He took a bite of his taco, avoiding the question.

Frowning, Kyle sat down his crunchwrap on the dashboard and leaned closer. “You gotta give me something to work with here. Do you want, um… a PS5? A blowjob?”

He laughed, swallowing the taco meat. “No, no. The PS5 is gonna suck, dude, I knew it was gonna suck as soon as they announced it. They seriously re-released GTA instead of making a new game.”

“Told you XBox was better.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “No. It isn’t, Kyle.”

“Ugh, let’s not have this argument again. So you’re okay with a blowjob?” he smirked, shifting in his seat to face Stan.

“...Yeah. As long as you’re okay with it.” He took another bite.

Kyle glared at him. “Why would I suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it?”

He shrugged, slowly chewing. “Makin’ sure.”

“Blowjob it is. I’ll get you something else, though, don’t worry.” Kyle picked his crunchwrap back up and pulled his legs underneath him, starting to eat again.

So, that didn’t work out. Aside from chocolate… Stan had no clue what to get him for Hanukkah. And he had six days to fill.

Thankfully, he knew the right person to ask. The problem was getting them alone to talk.


	9. Hanukkah, Day Three

Kyle sat on the couch, his leg crossed, watching some random show that Ike liked on Netflix.  He wasn’t paying attention, though. He was on his phone. Ike had terrible taste.

The front door opened and Stan came bursting in. It was December 12th, a Saturday morning- the third day of Hanukkah. The day before, Stan gave him a lavender Woodwick candle- the kind that was shaped like an oval and had one really long wick instead of three separate ones. Kyle appreciated it- he loved lighting candles while he studied, and lavender smelled pretty good, after all.

But there Stan was again, with yet another present in hand, just like he promised. Kyle sat up straight and stared at him, setting his phone down. Stan was definitely making this whole “present” competition difficult. Kyle wasn’t sure what he would do if he ended up getting him five more gifts. “Dude, I told you not to,” Kyle sighed, watching as Stan set the wrapped box down next to him on the couch.

“...Don’t care. You deserve it.” He sat down next to him, staring at Kyle expectantly.

Kyle put the present on his lap. “Please tell me this is the last one,” he said, starting to tear the wrapping paper. 

“Why? You don’t have to make it up to me, Ky.”

He shook his head, ripping large sections of the paper off. It was a huge box of chocolate, like the kind you get on Valentine’s day- except it wasn’t heart-shaped and it didn’t have roses on it.

Chocolate. Did Stan like him? Kyle felt stupid for not knowing, but he really wasn’t sure if Stan jerking him off every once in a while meant anything. He couldn’t see Stan doing it for Kenny, but… like Stan said, their friendship was different.

God, maybe he would never know.

He smiled down at the box, setting it back on the couch and leaning over to hug Stan. “You want some?” Kyle asked, letting his chin rest on Stan’s shoulder.

Stan hugged back. “...It’s yours.”

“Come on. I know you want some, dude. Here.” He pulled away and lifted the top, setting it on his lap, before realizing that the box was… thick. There was another sheet of chocolate underneath the first layer. He was going to get fat off of this stuff. Kyle popped one into his mouth, biting into it. “Thanks, though.. you’re too nice to me.”

“Want me to be mean?” Stan asked, taking one from the tray before putting the lid back on.

“You don’t have to get me something every day. I’m serious.”

“I want to, though.” He put the chocolate in his mouth and stood up. “I’m gonna go home, okay? Mom wants to go to Wal-Mart so we can pick out a tree.” Something in Stan’s facial expression said that he was lying, but.. Kyle pushed the thought away. White lies weren’t so bad. It just meant that Stan wanted alone time, or maybe he had something else at home to take care of, like chores.

Kyle nodded, taking the box off of his lap again. “Okay, cool. I’m gonna go take a shower, I feel disgusting.”

“Psh, you smell fine. Whatever, I’ll text you later, okay? If you wanna hang out, just tell me, I think we’ll be back by… uh, two?”

Two PM was pretty late, but he decided to ignore it again. Kyle grinned. “Okay,” he said back, grabbing the box and taking it upstairs to his room so Ike wouldn’t find it on the couch, put his nasty little fingers in it, and eat the whole thing in one sitting.

-

After showering and getting into a fresh pair of pajamas, he headed to the kitchen, his feet softly pattering down the stairs. He felt way better after taking a shower- more relaxed.. cleaner. And he smelled really good. Kyle planned on grabbing the bottle of Arizona tea in the fridge (assuming Ike or his dad hadn’t downed it already) and laying down. He would light the candle that Stan brought him yesterday and read a book, giving himself some time to relax. Studying for midterms was insanely stressful, but he decided he would take a break on the weekends. 

He paused in the living room, narrowing his eyes. Stan was still in his house, standing in the kitchen, talking to Sheila. Unfortunately, they just finished their conversation so Kyle couldn’t listen in. It looked like Stan was ready to leave.

Stan turned around, his smile dropping the second he saw Kyle. “Oh. Heh, hey Kyle. I was just leaving,” he explained, passing him by.

“Yeah? You were?”

“...Mhm. Oh, you smell good. Bye,” he said, refusing to explain why he was still there. Stan was out of the door before he could say anything else.


	10. Hanukkah, Days Four, Five, Six, and Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTION of pet fetish, no actual smut/fetishes

On the fourth day of Hanukkah, Stan showed up to his house with a dog collar.

“...Why do I need this?” Kyle asked, holding the collar in his hand and staring up at him. He was sitting on his bed, his face and hands still freezing cold from just having taken out the trash. The dog collar was blue and nylon; it didn’t have a particular pattern on it, but it did have a metal clasp to adjust the size.

Stan made eye contact with him. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see,” he teased. “On the 8th day.”

Initially, Kyle thought nothing of the dog collar. Maybe it was just a gag gift.

Until the next day.

-

“Hey,” Stan said, nudging him in the arm. They were in math class, neither of them paying attention. Instead, Stan had resorted to doodling in his notebook, and Kyle was zoning out. He already knew basic geometry, no need to waste brainpower cramming the same things into his brain. They had a social studies midterm next period anyway- he was mostly thinking about that, trying to think of the best way to get through the multiple choice to save time for the essay at the end. Not that he ever had trouble with time management, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Kyle turned to face him, his chin resting on his fist. “Yeah?”

He pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was a dog leash, black, long, and skinny, although thick enough to not break. “Your present.”

At that point, Kyle was starting to wonder if Stan had some sort of pet fetish. So far, he had a collar and leash, and both of them fit with his… theory. If that was the truth, though, there was no fucking way Kyle was letting Stan put a  _ dog collar  _ on him.

“Dude. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kyle said, unzipping his backpack and putting the dog leash in his backpack.

_ Please don’t have a pet fetish,  _ Kyle thought, staring back at Mr. Garrison in the front of the room.

-

On the sixth day, Stan stopped by Kyle’s house with a cat toy. It was a stick connected to a string, with a small feather on the end of it.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So you have a cat fetish, not a dog fetish,” Kyle muttered, holding the stick end in his hands. “I don’t understand you.”

“Yeah, sorry. Would you have preferred me having a dog fetish?”

“..No.” Okay, this really had to be a joke. Was Stan getting him a cat? Or were these gag gifts to distract him from a different, bigger gift? Was Stan even smart enough to try and ‘throw him off’?

Maybe Stan didn’t even know what to get him, but that probably wasn’t the case, right? A cat toy, cat collar, and cat leash were way too specific. 

Stan smiled and nudged him on the shoulder. “Okay. I’ll see you, uh… later.”

“You too.” And then Stan left.

-

On Wednesday, Stan didn’t show up to school. Nor did he come to Kyle’s house after, or text him, or call him with any sort of explanation.

Kyle tried not to worry about it and distract himself throughout the day, but it felt abnormal. It really wasn’t like Stan to just… not tell Kyle where he was all day. Not that Stan was ignoring him or anything- neither of them had messaged each other so far- but it was still… odd.

Laying in bed later that night, Kyle turned on his side and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. He was stressing himself out with stupid theories about where Stan might be. Kyle felt  _ pathetic,  _ almost, for worrying about it, but he had to know. Like, what if Stan was dead? Or ran away? There was no real basis behind these theories, but Stan had mental health problems. Duh. Anything was possible, and Kyle wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing what was up with him.

_ 11:06 PM _

**_sbf kyle: Stan, where are you?_ **

**_SBF Stan: home_ **

**_sbf kyle: Why weren’t you at school?_ **

**_SBF Stan: why_ **

**_sbf kyle: Fuck you._ **

**_sbf kyle: I’m worried. Did you have therapy today? Are you sick?_ **

**_sbf kyle: If you have the flu, do you want me to come over? I still have a few antibiotics left from when I had it._ **

**_sbf kyle: Are you having another episode? I can come over and take care of you until you feel better._ **

**_SBF Stan: just decided to take a day off, not sick_ **

**_SBF Stan: even if i was having an episode i wouldnt want u to_ **

**_SBF Stan: we got midterms this week and u need to take them i dont want you to skip just because of me_ **

**_sbf kyle: First of all, I care more about you than some stupid test._ **

**_sbf kyle: If I actually ended up missing them, I would just make them up when we get back from spring break._ **

**_sbf kyle: And that’s really weird of you to just “take a day off.”_ **

**_sbf kyle: Isn’t your mom worried about going to court? What about the present? Why wouldn’t you text or call me, dude?_ **

**_sbf kyle: Like_ **

**_sbf kyle: It’s like you disappeared for a whole day or something_ **

**_SBF Stan: i thought u didnt want me to get u something every day for hanukkah_ **

**_SBF Stan: look whos needy_ **

Kyle groaned. He just wanted to know why Stan was absent that day.

**_sbf kyle: I don’t want you to get me something every day, but you said you would._ **

**_sbf kyle: It just seemed weird to me._ **

**_sbf kyle: Why are you still up anyway?_ **

**_SBF Stan: why are u still up lol_ **

**_SBF Stan: hypocrite_ **

**_SBF Stan: go to bed ky_ **

**_sbf kyle: Whatever._ **

**_sbf kyle: Did you brush your teeth dude?_ **

**_SBF Stan: yea_ **

**_SBF Stan: goodnight_ **

**_sbf kyle: Night. Please go to sleep. You need it._ **

**_SBF Stan: i will_ **

Plugging his phone back in, he set it on his bedside table and rolled over. Kyle yanked the blanket above his head, wondering what the hell was going on with Stan.

He fell asleep.


	11. Pussy

“Ike, get the goddamn door!”

Ike did not get the goddamn door. With a groan, Kyle stood up from his desk and ran down the stairs, frustrated that he was interrupted while studying. He only had one final day of midterms, but it was english, which was the hardest one in his opinion.

He was also relieved, though. Kyle thought he did well on the tests he had already taken, and after Friday, he would get to enjoy his winter break. He wouldn’t have to worry about them ever again. Until next year.

Kyle stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking through the peephole. It was Stan.

Opening the door, Kyle realized that he had a large cardboard box in his hands. Great. Another present. The fleeting idea ran through his mind that it was a cat or dog- but if it was an animal, why weren’t there holes in the box?

“Hey dude,” Kyle greeted, stepping aside to let Stan in. “Um… thanks.”

Stan looked at Ike who was behind Kyle on the couch and waved, shifting the box between his arms. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go upstairs.”

_ Ugh,  _ Kyle thought, climbing the stairs. “Still, that’s- you’re really nice for doing this.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet, dude.”

“But you got me something. That’s like, nice on its own, it doesn’t matter if I actually like it or not.” He stepped into his bedroom, staring at his discarded clothes on the floor, feeling a little ashamed that he hadn’t picked them up by now. Not that Stan cared or anything, but he liked his bedroom to be neat. He always put his clothes in the laundry room after he changed.

Stan sat the box down on the bed. “Go ahead.”

Grabbing a switchblade from his desk, Kyle stood in front of the box. He opened the blade and cut the tape holding it together on top. He paused.

“Dude… there’s nothing to be scared of,” Stan reminded him, crossing his arms and staring down at the box.

Kyle rolled his eyes and opened the flaps of the box, to find a smaller, white box on the inside. The bottom of the original cardboard box had holes poked in it.

_ Oh god. It’s a cat,  _ he thought, lifting the smaller white box. “What the fuck, Stan?”

“...What?”

As soon as he unfolded the white box, a small, gray tabby cat hopped out of it and immediately fell onto the floor, scampering underneath the bed. “My mom is gonna fucking kill you. You got me a  _ cat?  _ I’m- I’ll just have to give it back, Stan, she won’t let me have one-”

“Chill,” Stan said, standing up. He put his hands on Kyle’s shoulders, the height gap making it awkward, but neither of them seemed to care. “I talked to her.”

Kyle remembered watching Stan talk to Sheila that day in the kitchen, thirty minutes after he was supposed to be gone. “Oh. Oh, wow. You did…”

“Yeah.”

Kyle blinked, trying to comprehend that he now had a  _ cat.  _ “Uh- thanks, dude,” he said. Kyle always expressed frustration at not being allowed to have a pet whenever he went to Stan’s house and played with Sparky, but he didn’t think Stan would take it seriously.

Still, he did want a cat. And now he had one. 

“What are you gonna name it?”

He grinned. “Shit… I don’t know. Um, do you wanna help me? Wait, boy or girl?” Kyle was suddenly excited at the idea of a new cat- even if it didn’t seem very friendly at the moment, it would warm up to him eventually. That’s just how cats were. 

“Boy. I can help. Name him Pussy?”

“Pussy…” Kyle mumbled, crouching down and looking underneath the bed. The cat was all the way up against the wall, perfectly centered between both sides. “Kitty kitty kitty,” he called, staring at him. “Come here, Pussy.”

The cat started to walk closer to Kyle, but stopped after only a few feet. He plopped back down on the carpet, staring at Kyle as if Kyle might crawl under the bed and strangle him.

“He hates me,” Kyle grinned, standing back up. “I need to get a litter box, Dad will be pissed if he pees everywhere.”

Stan smiled again. “I already got you one. Oh, and cat litter, they’re in my car. I’ll be back.”

Once Stan was out of his bedroom, Kyle sat on the floor next to his bed, trying to coerce the cat into coming out and letting Kyle pet him. The cat wasn’t budging, so he sat up and crossed his legs, thinking of Stan.

Everything was coming together now. The fact that Stan was absent from school all day last Wednesday, the cat collar and leash, the spray bottle- he was an idiot for not figuring it out sooner, although he did suspect it.

Before he could realize it, he was crying. Stan was just so  _ sweet.  _ So  _ thoughtful.  _ Nobody in his life had ever done something like that before- convince his mom into letting him have a pet? Completely unheard of.

_ Fuck,  _ Kyle thought to himself, raising his hands to his face and sobbing.  _ I love him. Fuck, and I need to stop crying or he’ll think… _

Pussy poked his head out from underneath the bed, concerned. Kyle sobbed harder. Even though they were happy tears, he felt a pit rising in the bottom of his stomach. Did Stan love him?

The tabby climbed onto his lap, meowing and nudging his head up against Kyle’s elbow. He reached down to pet the cat, stroking its fur and letting out one final sob before trying to steady his breathing and stop crying. He needed to get it under control before Stan came back, or else he would look like an emotional, hormonal mess. He would also have to explain everything, and he really didn’t want to do that. Having to explain himself might just make him cry harder.

Kyle sat with Pussy for a moment, stroking him and scratching him behind the ears, his heart swelling every time Pussy mewled or nudged his head against Kyle’s arm. He was just so cute, and Stan got the cat for him, which made it even better.

Once his breathing had steadied, he gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head, using the fabric to dry his face from the tears.  _ I need to confess,  _ he told himself.  _ Fuck. _

He let the collar of his shirt drop back down underneath his neck, staring down at Pussy as he curled up on Kyle’s lap and started to purr. “Ky,” Stan said from behind him. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“...Laundry room,” Kyle answered, thankful that Stan couldn’t see his face.

“Oh, you managed to get him out. That’s nice,” he said. “He’s cute.”

Kyle smiled, petting his forehead again. “Yeah.”

Stan was gone, off to fill the litter box up. He continued stroking the cat, wondering how on earth he was going to tell Stan he liked him. Stan was fucking stupid, he wasn’t going to confess even if he did like Kyle back, so he knew he had to tell him first.

Once Kyle brought Pussy to his litter box and Stan went out to grab cat food, the three of them laid down on Kyle’s bed. The cat was settled between them, and Stan had one arm around Kyle, the other hand tangled in Kyle’s hair.

Kyle closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might take a hiatus soon because i can f e e l my mental sanity and the quality of my writing starting to decline
> 
> i will DEFINITELY post a one-shot on the 12th but aside from that i'm not sure if i'm going to update much, i will come back tho


	12. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops! hiatus didn't last very long. anyway, have this.

Hanukkah was long gone. The boys were on winter break, and Stan and Kyle used their time exclusively to hang out, play video games, and give each other the occasional tug when they felt like it. The fact that they would have to discuss their relationship, or at least their feelings for each other, was right behind the corner, and Stan was not excited to have that conversation- if it ever happened. Maybe him and Kyle could make an agreement not to talk about it- but if he brought that up, Kyle would ask why, and how would he answer that? He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but  _ saying  _ that he didn’t want to ruin the friendship would only bring up more questions. 

God, the whole situation gave Stan a headache and severe anxiety. Which was why he always tried blocking it out.

On Christmas day, after Shelly, Stan, Randy and Sharon unwrapped all of their gifts for each other, they had breakfast and spent the rest of the day either cleaning (Sharon), singing shitty holiday songs at the top of his lungs (Randy), locking herself in the bathroom and trying to pop her blackheads (Shelly), or laying back down for some much needed sleep (Stan.) Shelly was now insanely insecure about her skin, which was the exact reason why Stan decided to give her cleanser and moisturizer for Christmas- a passive-aggressive gift that he could easily pass off as unoffending.

It didn’t even cross his mind that Kyle might show up with a present for him, he was so woozy that the only thing he was worried about was getting back to sleep. Sharon had woken him up at 6 AM to open presents, which didn’t go with his current sleep schedule at all. After presents, Sharon had to cook and they had to eat, which took about another hour and thirty minutes. Two and a half whole hours Stan could’ve spent in bed, completely wasted.

“Stan! Get up!” Sharon hissed, stepping forward and yanking the comforter off of him. “Kyle’s here, and you  _ know  _ we have to go have dinner at my parents’ house in an hour. Get ready, wear what you wear to church. And brush your hair! They have gifts for you, so you better be nice to them. Smile and look at least a  _ little  _ alive.”

The idea of gifts didn’t phase him. “ _ Kyle? _ ” he asked, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes. He didn’t have the chance to actually fall asleep, but he was about halfway there when Sharon decided he deserved to be sleep deprived and miserable for the rest of the day.

“He’s downstairs! And he has a present for you, so  _ get up!” _

Stan got up and ran downstairs, the smell of leftover pancakes and bacon filling his nostrils. It made him nauseous, but he tried to ignore it when he spotted Kyle at the bottom of the stairs, his cheeks and ears reddened from the harsh temperatures outside. “Hey dude, sorry. I look like a mess.”

Kyle smiled and shook his head. “No you don’t. Let’s go upstairs.” He held a large box in his arms, wrapped in blue and white wrapping paper with silver iridescent snowflakes on it. 

Stan ran back upstairs, standing in the center of the room as Kyle sat the box on his bed. First, he pulled a can out of his jacket pocket. “Here,” he said, thrusting it out at Stan. “I know you’re gonna be tired all day, this might help for an hour or two. I tried to find the one with the highest caffeine content.”

It was an energy drink, a Cherry Limeade  _ Bang _ . “Oh… thanks,” Stan smiled, taking the drink in his hands. He didn’t have energy drinks very often- Sharon claimed that it was bad for his brain or something- but he didn’t like coffee, and there wasn’t anything else that could really give him energy, so energy drinks were helpful whenever he could get his hands on them.

The drink was cold and had condensation on it, making his hands wet and slippery. Stan sat the can down on his dresser, making a mental note not to forget it before he left for his grandparents’. 

“Okay, here’s your, um, other gift.” Kyle nodded toward the cardboard box, turning to face it. Stan stepped forward and ripped the paper, stopping immediately after seeing the label.

It was a PS5. “Dude, I told you the PS5 is-” Stan started, but stopped himself when he realized he sounded ungrateful. Kyle  _ did  _ get it for him, and his PS4 was having trouble turning on as of recent. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he was too late.

“Would you rather me get you an X-Box Series?” Kyle asked teasingly, punching Stan in the shoulder. “That’s only admitting that they’re better, like I’ve been saying since second grade.”

“...Fine. Yeah, I’d rather have a PS5, the X-Box Series is gonna be worse. Thanks, dude- uh. How much did you get this for? Aren’t these things like, five-hundred bucks right now? You didn’t have to… y’know.”

Kyle shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, text me when you get to your grandparents’ house, okay?”

“I will. Kyle, did you have five-hundred bucks lying around?”

Kyle only grinned and backed away. “I told you, don’t worry about it. Can I spend the night tonight? Like, after you get home, I mean?”

“...Sure?”

“Thanks, dude. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, Kyle. And uh, thanks, I know I already said it, but… wow.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, I know. Try not to be too miserable when you get there. We can talk later.” Kyle stepped into the hallway.

“...Yeah. Bye.”


	13. Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning; smut that is important to the plot

Most of the “gifts” Stan received from his grandparents and other relatives were Christmas cards full of money, which he actually appreciated. His day hadn’t been all too bad, even if he was tired and loopy the entire time- the energy drink only made him bounce his leg and start wanting to do  _ chores _ . Stan wondered if that was how Tweek felt all the time. 

He spent most of his time at his grandparents’ house texting Kyle and shoving bread rolls down his throat, which was a good use of time, in Stan’s opinion.

It still felt good coming home, though, kicking off his shoes and tearing off his stuffy church clothes so he could lay down and play video games with Kyle. Stan watched him from the corner of his eye, smiling whenever he got a one-up on Kyle and Kyle let out a groan or gripped the controller a little harder out of frustration. Eventually he got so invested in watching Kyle that he forgot to focus on the game itself- and ended up losing.

“Ha! Finally, I got you!” Kyle celebrated, throwing his hands in the air. “I told you I’d beat you eventually.”

His smile widened. “Yeah, I guess you did, huh?” Stan didn’t have the heart to tell Kyle that he stopped paying attention. Instead, he sat up straight and put the controller down on the ground. “I’m tired. You wanna go to bed?” Stan wasn’t tired, but his eyes were burning, and he suspected it was from staring at screens all day long.

“Sure.” Kyle set his controller down next to Stan’s and stood up from the bed, turning the PS5 and TV off while he was standing up. “Uh. I have something to tell you, though. This might be weird.”

“...Go ahead? And, uh, take your binder off. I mean, if you haven’t already. I don’t want you to get another bruised rib or something.”

Kyle turned the light off and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “You can’t tell?”

“No?”

“Shit, that means my binder is too loose. I guess it is time to get a new one… whatever. Anyway.”

Stan sat up straight and crossed his legs. “No. Your chest is flat either way, like… when we’re laying in bed, I don’t even see anything. You’re really skinny.”

“Oh,” Kyle said, crawling up next to Stan in bed. “Good. Uh, I have…” he trailed off, chewing his bottom lip.

“Go ahead, dude. What is it? Is it like, bad?”

He shrugged. “It- it might be? I have… another… present for you. Like, if you want… it. Okay, that’s stupid. It’s not really a present.” Kyle put his head in his hands. “Ugh.”

Stan narrowed his eyes- he wasn’t sure what Kyle could possibly be referring to, but he wanted to hear it anyway. “Uh- I do? I think? Want whatever it is, I mean.”

“God. Okay. So… okay, nevermind. This is too embarrassing,” Kyle muttered, rolling over on his side. “Goodnight.”

“Kyle,” he scolded, putting his hand on Kyle’s arm and shaking it. “No, dude, c’mon. Tell me.”

Kyle shook his head. “I can’t. Just forget I said anything.”

“...Was it the blowjob you joked about? On the first day of Hanukkah? You don’t have to give me one, and it’s not like… embarrassing. It shouldn’t be. I mean, we do stuff like that all the time.” Stan frowned. “Come on.”

He sat back up. “Okay, uh. It was kind of like that.”

“You want, um, to have sex or something?” Stan asked, swallowing his spit.  _ Did  _ Kyle want that? “Is that it?”

“...Mhm. We don’t have to. If you don’t want to. Um, or if this is too weird, just pretend I didn’t say anything and we can go to bed.”

Stan swallowed his spit again. “No, no. It’s not weird. Let’s do it,” he said, feeling something inside his stomach bubble up as he made eye contact with Kyle.  _ Holy shit. _

“Okay... I’m really nervous, so you’ll have to be patient with me,” Kyle said, letting out a nervous laugh as his smile started to falter. He went silent, as if he were supposed to be doing something but wasn’t sure what.

Stan nodded, pulling on the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants. “It’ll be okay. Let me go make sure everyone is asleep, alright? I’ll be back.”

Nodding, Kyle took the hint and slipped out of his sweatpants and underwear while Stan left the room, checking inside his parents’ bedroom. Shelly’s bedroom was downstairs, which meant they didn’t have to worry about her.

He stepped back into his bedroom, closing and locking the door. “Okay. Hey, Ky, everyone is asleep,” Stan said, sitting back down next to him. “Don’t we need a condom? I can just pull out, but… I dunno.” Kyle was exceptionally picky about being “safe” and “careful” and things like that, but Kyle brought up the idea in the first place. Maybe he forgot.

“No, no. It’s okay. Yeah. Pull out,” Kyle said, glancing at the door. “You want to be on top, right?”

“You sure? That you, uh, don’t want to use a…” he trailed off. Stan would ruin his chances if he kept bitching about protection. Kyle thought it was safe- so why wouldn’t it be? Plus, in health class he learned that it was actually  _ hard  _ to get pregnant due to ovulation or some shit like that. “Yeah. I’ll be on top.”

Kyle smiled, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the sides of his thighs. “Okay.”

“Dude… calm down?” Stan suggested, taking Kyle’s right hand in his own to stop the shaking. He was nervous himself, worried he would fuck something up, but… all Kyle had to do was lay there. There was no reason for him to be nervous.

He stared at his legs. “Yeah. I know.” Kyle met his eyes, reaching for Stan’s own pajama bottoms. “I can’t help it. Um… go slow.”

“Okay.” Stan pulled his own pants and underwear off. “...Lube?”

“Just make me wet, it’ll be okay.”

Stan nodded, shifting around so that he was facing Kyle, now in between his legs. “Yeah? How do I do that?”

“You’re hopeless,” Kyle joked. “Spit?”

Spit didn’t work- the one time Stan had tried using spit while masturbating didn’t go so well. “Nah, dude… are you okay with hickeys? Or, um, is kissing off-limits? I don’t wanna just… assume.”

Kyle hesitated before answering. “I don’t know why it should be off-limits… if you’re gonna give me a hickey, make sure nobody will be able to see it, okay?”

_ Our first kiss,  _ Stan thought to himself. “Would your parents get mad if they saw?” he asked, gently pushing Kyle down onto the bed and pulling down the collar on his shirt, going at his collarbone. He’d never given anyone a hickey before, but it couldn’t be that hard.

“I don’t know… I just don’t want to explain that it’s you.”

_ Fuck. Is he embarrassed that we’re doing this? _

_ Is it because of me?  _ Stan pulled away from Kyle’s skin, staring down at the reddened mark he made, his spit gleaming around it. “Okay,” he said, trying to hide his own hurt by pulling his shirt off. “Tell me if I do something wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Stan paused, unsure of what to do next. Kiss him? Touch him, or keep giving him hickies?

He reached down to check if Kyle was wet, and found that he was already soaked. “Holy shit. I think we’re good,” Stan said, smiling down at him. “You want me to go ahead?”

Kyle nodded, spreading his legs further. “I don’t need to be stretched, you can go.”

Nodding, Stan started to stroke himself, lifting Kyle’s legs and lower abdomen. He was already hard when Kyle suggested the idea, but it didn’t hurt to keep going. He pressed his tip in slowly, glancing up at Kyle like he’d done a million times before to see if it were hurting him.

Kyle looked okay with it. Stan pressed in further, remembering that he had permission to kiss Kyle.

He leaned over him, making eye contact with him, trying to find any cues that might mean Kyle wanted him to- but Kyle was hard to read. Chewing his lip, staring up at Stan without any sort of expression in his eyes. It would’ve been creepy if it weren’t Kyle.

_ You have to do it now or you won’t be able to do it ever again. _

Stan’s face inched closer to Kyle’s, his cock sliding in further as he pressed his lips against Kyle’s. He sucked on Kyle’s upper lip, closing his eyes and feeling a sudden rush of relief when Kyle reciprocated the kiss.  _ Thank god.  _

This was going…  _ too _ well. Stan wondered if everything would continue like this, or if something horrific would happen as they usually did, like his parents walking in on him or Kyle regretting his choice the next day.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Stan, and Stan set his palms down on the mattress to steady himself, hitting the back of Kyle’s vaginal wall. He pulled out slowly and thrusted in again, trying to keep track of it as Kyle kissed him.

_ This isn’t so bad,  _ he thought.  _ It isn’t. I’m doing good. _

Kyle pulled away from the kiss. “More,” he whispered. “I know you can.”

“Okay,” Stan whispered back, his eyes widening. He sped up, bucking his hips and lowering himself to kiss Kyle again, catching his lips softer than he had the first time.

Kyle let out a small whimper, but nothing else. He released his right arm from Stan’s back, reaching down to rub at his clit. “Don’t be scared to go fa-.. agh… faster. You won’t hurt me.”

“You like it rough?” Stan teased, not actually trying to talk dirty but accidentally doing it anyway. He thrusted even harder into Kyle, making Kyle’s legs tense up and thrash almost violently.

He clenched his eyes shut. “Yeah, more! Fuck, dude,” Kyle breathed. Stan moved down to nip at Kyle’s collarbone again. “God, that’s- mm...”

“Damn, Kyle,” Stan spoke absently, grazing his teeth against Kyle’s skin. The realization hit him that he was fucking _ Kyle _ , his best friend. The boy he fantasized about during class, during football practice, the boy he made endless Spotify playlists for...

Kyle whined from underneath him, making Stan’s stomach churn.

“I love you.”

Kyle pushed Stan off of him, sitting up straight. “What?” he snapped, staring him dead in the eye. “You  _ love _ me?”

_ Oh fuck. _

“No! No, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to say that, um, I don’t actually love you- it was- a heat of the moment kind of thing, you know?”

Kyle stood up, pulling his underwear and pajama pants back on. “No. Fuck you.”

“Kyle? What? Please don’t go home, dude, I didn’t mean to say it. I really didn’t. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head furiously, slipping his shoes on and throwing his coat over his arms. “I’m going home. Don’t talk to me, and don’t text me.”

“Why?” Stan asked, standing up and pulling on Kyle’s forearm. “What did I do?”

With a final glare, Kyle yanked Stan’s arm off of him and left his bedroom, descending the stairs. Stan was left naked, in the dark, wondering where it all went wrong.

-

_ 12:04 AM _

**_SBF Stan: im sorry?!!_ **

**_SBF Stan: come back please i want to talk about it_ **

**_SBF Stan: what did i do_ **

**_SBF Stan: you wanted me to say that i didnt like you right??_ **

**_SBF Stan: why are you mad?_ **

**_SBF Stan: kyle_ **

**_SBF Stan: ok fuck you too then_ **

**_SBF Stan: you seriously arent going to tell me what i did_ **

**_SBF Stan: or why youre mad_ **

_ 12:39 AM _

**_SBF Stan: kyle i miss you_ **

**_SBF Stan: im sorry_ **

None of his messages were delivering, which meant that Kyle had blocked him. Stan threw his phone against the wall, not even bothering to get dressed before burrowing into his blankets and pressing his face into the pillow beneath him.

Kyle would still be there if it weren’t for him.


	14. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; alcohol

Kyle woke up to light pressure on his upper calf and sunlight streaming through the blinds. He rubbed his eyes, looking down at his legs to see his cat, Pussy, sprawled over his left calf, fast asleep.

He burst out in tears, the cat reminding him of Stan and the fact that Stan admitted to not liking him. The cat jerked, widening his eyes and staring at Kyle, standing up. Kyle didn’t care about him anymore- he was too busy bawling his eyes out, raising his fists to his eyes to catch the tears.

Cautiously, Pussy made his way up Kyle’s chest, curling up in the crook of his neck. He was small enough to fit, and Kyle stared at him from the corner of his eye in adoration.

_ Stan doesn’t love you. You’re an idiot for thinking he would. _

_ He was being nice the first time, and things escalated. It’s your fault.  _

Fuck. Kyle sat up, looking around his bedroom as if Stan would be standing there, waiting for Kyle to apologize. He remembered that he blocked Stan the night before, and grabbed his phone, deciding to undo it. Stan probably messaged him a million times, begging for forgiveness or at least a chance to talk.

_ Or maybe he confessed his love for me. _

_ Ha. He wouldn’t. _

Still, he unblocked Stan, praying that nothing horrible had happened. Kyle should’ve known better. Been more careful. Stan could be in the hospital right now, or worse, dead.

_ 12:04 AM _

**_SBF Stan: im sorry?!!_ **

**_SBF Stan: come back please i want to talk about it_ **

**_SBF Stan: what did i do_ **

**_SBF Stan: you wanted me to say that i didnt like you right??_ **

**_SBF Stan: why are you mad?_ **

**_SBF Stan: kyle_ **

**_SBF Stan: ok fuck you too then_ **

**_SBF Stan: you seriously arent going to tell me what i did_ **

**_SBF Stan: or why youre mad_ **

_ 12:39 AM _

**_SBF Stan: kyle i miss you_ **

**_SBF Stan: im sorry_ **

Kyle read through them, putting a hand on his forehead. He wasn’t sure what to do anymore, and he knew he had no reason to be mad at Stan. It was just a small slip-up, and Stan was telling him the truth after all. He would rather have his heart broken than be led on, right? To believe it could ever be real?

Oh god, he was an  _ idiot  _ for asking Stan to take his virginity. Nothing ever went right for him.

Nothing.

But he needed to talk to Stan, get things cleared up. If he couldn’t have a relationship, he still wanted to be friends.

_ 8:20 AM _

**_sbf kyle: Stan?_ **

**_sbf kyle: Sorry. I overreacted last night. We need to talk._ **

Setting his phone down on the dresser, he scratched Pussy behind the ears lightly and grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt from the closet. Kyle wasn’t going to bother with showering- too much work, plus dysphoria. He would wipe himself down with a rag in the bathroom and hope Stan didn’t notice anything.

-

He sat on the edge of his bed, frantically turning his phone on and off, checking for notifications. Kyle felt even  _ dumber  _ when he remembered that Stan slept in every weekend, he probably wouldn’t be up until 1 PM.

Kyle distracted himself as much as he could- looking over schoolwork, picking up books and flipping through them only to set them right back down, popping his pimples in the mirror and getting frustrated when they hurt too much. He even stopped in Ike’s bedroom to see what he was up to, but rolled his eyes once he saw that Ike was playing Minecraft with his stupid online friends. Kyle left his bedroom.

Checking his phone again, his eyes widened when Stan finally answered.

_ 11:06 _

**_SBF Stan: you dont hate me??_ **

**_SBF Stan: why did you block me_ **

**_SBF Stan: that shit hurt_ **

**_sbf kyle: I’m sorry dude. I didn’t mean to. I was just upset._ **

**_SBF Stan: why were u even upset to begin with_ **

**_SBF Stan: god you fuckig overreact so much_ **

**_SBF Stan: you coudlve at least told me why and it wouldve been ok._ **

Kyle sighed and turned his phone off. He didn’t want to explain why he was hurt, but now that he knew Stan was awake, he was going to his house whether Stan wanted to see him or not.

-

He stepped into Stan’s bedroom, only to find him laying in bed, his phone gripped loosely in one hand, squinting at it. Stan took a moment to notice he was there, but once he did, he jumped. “Fuck, dude, you could’ve told me you were coming over-”

Stan’s bedroom was a complete mess compared to how it was the night before. He guessed Stan got angry and started throwing things- until he saw the beer bottles, and then it all clicked.

“Oh my god. You fucking relapsed! You could’ve told me and I would’ve helped-” Kyle started, stopping himself when he realized Stan  _ couldn’t  _ tell him, because he blocked him. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Stan let his phone drop onto the carpeted floor, rolling over in his bed. “Whatever, Kyle.” He noticed that Stan was shirtless, his bare shoulders showing above the blanket.

“You need to take a shower. Get rid of the beer smell.”

“It’ll still be there. I spilled it all over the carpet last night.”

Kyle crossed his arms. “Then I’ll clean it for you. I’m really sorry, Stan, I wasn’t thinking about your feelings, okay? I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve just talked to you, and it would’ve been okay.”

“But  _ why  _ did you leave? I took it back!” Stan said, sitting up now. His eyes were bloodshot, and Kyle wondered if he slept at all last night. He was probably hungover at best, drunk and sleep deprived at worst. “I didn’t know what you wanted me to say!”

“The truth,” Kyle muttered, sitting down on his bed. “And you said the truth, and it- hurt my feelings. So I went home.”

Stan rolled his eyes, flopping back onto the bed. “I didn’t tell the truth, I said what I thought you wanted to hear. You didn’t seem to like either answer.”

“I-? Uh, I think I was surprised at first, because it was just so- sudden. But you took it back, and I was.. disappointed. And upset. So I went home. But I shouldn’t have.”

“So you like me? Or… what?”

“I do,” Kyle admitted. “Sorry if I’m making it weird, but yeah, I did have a crush on you. And we can still be friends.”

Stan sat back up, confused. “You…  _ do,  _ or you used to?”

Kyle swallowed his spit. “That- it really doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked, looking away.

“It does matter.”

He froze up. Was Stan going to be mad if he still liked him? “I guess I do- still, I mean- but I can try to, like, stop.” That obviously wouldn’t happen- if it were possible for Kyle to stop falling in love with people who didn’t actually like him back, he would’ve done it a long time ago. “To make it less awkward, if knowing that bothers you or something.”

Stan blinked, before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “Are you sure you still like me?”

“...Yeah?”

“Why?” he asked, letting his hands drop down on his lap. “Why do you like me? I’m a mess- you’re so much better, you’re like, cuter, and funnier, and smarter, and… I dunno. I mean, I always liked you too, but when I told you and you- pushed me away, I thought you didn’t want me… to love you or something.”

Stan spoke as if Kyle already knew that he liked him. Kyle narrowed his eyes.

“Uh- are you mad again?” Stan said. “I’ll go take a shower, um, and let you sort out your feelings…”

“No, sorry. I just didn’t expect it…” Kyle trailed off, looking away. The confession was super anti-climatic, but…  _ Stan liked him.  _ After all of that time, Stan did like him, and he wasted so much time going back and forth, questioning the signs…

_ At least we’re together now? _

Kyle shook the thought away. Him and Stan weren’t  _ together,  _ they hadn’t even talked about it. Before he could ask about it, Stan was grabbing a fresh set of pajamas and leaving to take a shower.

Conflicted, Kyle stared at his legs as they dangled over the edge of the bed. Yes, he liked Stan, but if they dated- what would that mean for them? Would it get too weird? They had a difficult time with the other…  _ things  _ they did, but they weren’t dating at that time. Maybe it would make things more normal, somehow.

Hell, Kyle didn’t know. And Stan was a total mess- how was he supposed to support him when they were dating? Kyle got mad at practically every little thing he did, and both of them were super needy, and…

“Hey, have you thought about it?” Stan asked, throwing his towel in the corner of his room. He was wearing an oversized Cows shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. “I can give you more time.”

Stan looked way better now that he had showered. The room didn’t reek any less of alcohol, but that was okay. “I thought about it. Um…” Kyle mumbled, looking up to meet his gaze. He was going to say yes in the end anyway; there was no resisting him. It was Stan, for god’s sake- Kyle didn’t have a crush on him for absolutely no reason at all. The only problem was balancing the relationship and keeping their emotions in check, but they had a hard time doing that anyway. So what difference would it make? “Yeah, we can date if you want- or like, whatever you wanna call it,” Kyle finally answered, tensing up. 

As Stan sat down next to him, he inhaled the sweet, citrus-y scent of his body wash and deodorant. He wrapped an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “Okay,” Stan whispered.

“Yeah? Okay?”

He nodded. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Wait. Ground rules,” Kyle said, turning to face him. “You have to quit drinking.”

Stan sighed. “Fine, for how long?”

“Forever, dumbass. You can drink for fun or whatever when you turn of legal age, but you have to get this under control, dude. Second, um. Talk to me if you’re sad, okay? I won’t block you again, promise,” he joked, although it wasn’t a joke and he was also being completely serious.

“Wow, thanks,” Stan teased, nudging him. “I’ll talk to you.” 

Neither of them had anything else to say. Stan inhaled and let his head rest on Kyle’s shoulder, closing his eyes and enjoying the silence.

Kyle smiled, turning his head to kiss Stan on the forehead. He wasn’t sure how far Stan wanted to go yet- they already had sex (did it still count if neither of them oragasmed?), but they did just get together after all. “Okay. I really can’t believe you like me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m like-” Kyle paused, shaking his head. “Ugly? And I get mad all the time, for like, no reason? And I’m trans? I’m a lot to deal with, dude, and you just don’t- I mean, didn’t seem like you liked me.”

Stan laughed, “No, you’re not ugly. I’m uglier than you are. And yeah, you get mad but you can’t really help that part, and I don’t care if you’re trans, you’re better than everyone else anyway.”

“...But all of the girls like you. And not me, so that means you’re more attractive.”

“Ky,” Stan said, pulling away. “They like me because I’m cis. Most of those girls are transphobic assholes aside from Wendy and Heidi.”

Kyle knew that wasn’t true- only Red was a dick to him, and that was because- surprise!- she liked Stan and wanted to impress him or some stupid shit like that. “Nichole isn’t.”

“Yeah, and guess what? She liked you in middle school, remember?”

Damn. Maybe Stan was right. “Yeah, okay.” He knew it was stupid to be jealous of Stan, but he couldn’t help it. “So does this mean, like, you’re bi? You like boys and girls, right?”

Stan shrugged. “I like you.”

“Yeah, and I’m a guy, and Wendy was a girl, so you’re… bi.”

“Then I’m bi, Kyle.”

“Okay.”

Stan held him closer. “You want to take a nap with me?”

He laughed. “Dude, it smells horrible in here. I’m surprised you haven’t puked yet. We can go to my house and you can sleep- oh, guess what?” Kyle asked, standing up and taking Stan’s arm. “Pussy was sleeping on my leg when I woke up. It was really cute- and then-” he paused, deciding to leave out the part where he cried.

“What?” Stan asked, standing up with Kyle and putting a pair of jeans on since they were going to be out in the cold.

“Uh- he woke up and slept next to my neck. He like, curled up, dude. It was adorable.”

Smiling, Stan zipped up his jeans and slipped a pair of shoes on. “I’m glad you like him, and he’s not like… feral or whatever. He is really cute. That’s why I picked him, I kinda knew you’d love him.”

Kyle stared as he got dressed, beaming. “God, dude… thank you so much, I don’t even know how, like, you managed to convince my mom. Did you bribe her?”

“No. I just talked to her.”

He took Stan’s hand after he put his jacket on. “I don’t believe you,” Kyle said.

“Well, you have a cat now, and last month you didn’t.” They walked down the stairs and left through the front door, hands clasped together. Stan rubbed his thumb over the back of Kyle’s hand, staring up at him from the corner of his eye.

“Fine. You’re right.”

Once they were inside Kyle’s bedroom, Stan toed his shoes off and took off his jeans and jacket, leaving him in the Cows shirt and the basketball shorts he was wearing when he got out of the shower. He laid down on Kyle’s bed, relieved that he didn’t have to wallow in his own filth and the smell of booze and beer.

Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him, reaching out to stroke his hair. He smiled and pushed Kyle’s hand away. “That’s weird.”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, leaning down and starting to take his own jacket off. “It’s not weird when you do it in class all the time, but it’s weird when I do it?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “But you actually like it.”

“And you didn’t?”

“‘Kay. You win,” he pouted. “Lay down with me.”

His smile widening, Kyle kicked his shoes off and laid down next to Stan, yanking the covers over himself. Stan put an arm around him, and Kyle was flooded with an overwhelming sense of elation. 

Stan  _ did  _ like him, after what felt like a million years of self-doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this is the end!! thank you for reading and i hope u liked the final chapter!


End file.
